


To Love You Still is a Great Burden

by mewsifer, SniperMoran



Series: Destiny [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Comfort, Dandelion is a gentleman, Drug Abuse, F/M, Healing, Jaskier to Dandelion, M/M, Multi, Soft Yennefer, Substance Abuse, a bit suicidal Jaskier, baths, big dumb Geralt, just not at first, original song/poem, post-mountain, whom we love and adore, withdrawals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mewsifer/pseuds/mewsifer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SniperMoran/pseuds/SniperMoran
Summary: If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.Geralt wasn't always a nice being, and Jaskier of all people would know that, having traveled with the Witcher most of his adult life....but that didn't make what was said on the mountain any easier, or any more acceptable or forgivable.Jaskier was lost, at a low point, and perhaps he could give the Witcher the blessing he so asked for.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Destiny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735474
Comments: 18
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat! Mewsifer and I writing a straight ship?!

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands._

Over and over those angry words rang in the bard's head as he came down the mountain. Geralt was just hurt, he knew, just angry, he knew... but even still.  
Even still...

Despite knowing they came from a place of hurt and anger, his words must hold some inkling of his true feelings. Geralt never lashed out like that, never lost his temper or lost control of his emotions - because, as the bard learned over his travels with the Witcher, he did indeed have emotions.

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands._

Beyond the mountain, traveling alone, his words still rang in his ears. It wouldn't be enough to just stay away - they always seemed to find one another, their Paths were linked in some way. If he wished to fulfill the one blessing that Geralt truly wished for, he would have to sever that link.

He tried mixing herbs that Geralt had taught him were poisonous. He tried to drink himself numb enough that he could allow for pain to take him. He traveled through woodlands and off the beaten road in Hope's that some monster that Geralt would usually take down might take him instead.  
Nothing seemed to take, nothing seemed to work. He ate nothing but the mixture of herbs, drank nothing but obscene and dangerous amounts of various alcohols that should leave a lesser man destroyed from the inside.

...Fate was cruel, though, as it seemed, and just would not release him from this plane of life. He walked like the dead, from one town to the next, never staying longer than a single night, singing for his wages until the words no longer came easily to his tongue.  
It pained him to sing of his adventures with Geralt of Rivia. It pained him to hear anyone else sing of his adventures either, and by the time the second winter came around, the bard had given up staying in towns to avoid such heartache.

_If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands._

Living on the road, he spoke to no one, sang for no one, and lived for no one, though his body refused to die for Geralt.  
He had nothing to hid name, and was sure the entertainment world was missing the loss of him. No one had seen hide nor tail of him in many a season - perhaps Geralt would be happy, finally. It was like he was dead. Death adjacent.

It was while thinking such thoughts of Geralt and his happiness that he was attacked. Metal through weak and giving flesh, what belongings he had were taken and he was left to the side of the road, staring up to the grey-white sky as snow fell down quietly around him.

Perhaps finally, life was granting the single blessing his Witcher had begged for. Perhaps finally it could all be over.

...for the best, really. He was getting tired of moving.

A corpse in the snow was always considered a bad omen, blood staining the snow around the poor boy. It might not be an omen of anything in particular, but bodies attracted monsters and disease, and so close to the village. It was the least the trader could do, move the body up to his cart to bring to the cemetery. 

When the man groaned as he was being moved, a more frantic energy filled the trader, quickly loading him up. He hurried his horse into the village, bringing him right to the mage, pounding on her door. 

Some one had answered for her, telling the man to bring the body in, calling for the mage. 

She took her time coming down to see who had been asking for her help, but when she moved to him, eyes searching over him, her blood went ice cold. It was like seeing a ghost, sending her heart racing. 

He looked so withered, not even reminiscent of the man he was before, all the sunshine sucked from his soul. Body once full and round from decadent food, always buying himself and the witcher desserts where they could be found. She'd often mocked him for it, but now his body looked as though he had died several years ago but he didn't seem to know yet. 

"Well don't just stand there, you idiot! Bring him to a bed!" She shouted at the man, moving top get everything she needed. Fate had been cruel to the both of them, but she would be kind to him.

The man hurriedly brought the poor wretch's body to a bed, as instructed, stepping back and taking his hat in hand.  
"He's in a right state... do you think you'll be able to do anything for him, Miss Yennefer?"

The bard could hear sounds, voices muffled but sharp, could feel himself being moved from the cold of the snow into a warmer space, softer ground.  
...at least he would die in some form of comfort? How nice.

"Don't be foolish! Of course I can. Now go." Yennefer ordered him away, turning to Jaskier in the bed. "And you, dear idiot, what have you done to yourself?" She sighed, pulling him out of his clothes and getting to work. 

It took hours, patching him up, cleaning him, forcing herbs down his throat to keep him asleep long enough for healing magic to work. It wouldn't be enough to have him bounce back, but he'd live. Like it or not. 

She only left his side to send word to a man she hadn't thought about in years. She then turned to what used to be Jaskier on the bed, wondering if he'd ever be able to get back to who he was.

He wasn't sure how time passed around him, except that it certainly was passing and in a hazy, fuzzy fashion that smelled of gooseberries and... something else. It was familiar, though, and he could hear the soft, strong voice talking to him every now and again.

Eventually, he was able to blink open his eyes, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. It was difficult to swallow, though he tried, and a strained sort of groan left him as he attempted to move.

He was alive.  
Damn it all, and damn who saved him, he was alive.  
...and in _pain._  
A broken sob pulled past his lips as he came to a bit more, curling into himself as pain shuddered through him.

"Oh, quit your squealing." Yennefer huffed, coming back into the room, pouring him a cup of tea. 

"Open your mouth." She demanded, sitting in front of him, holding the cup. "If you don't open your mouth and drink this, I'm pouring it in your lap." She huffed when he refused, starting to fight her.

_Yennefer._  
Yennefer of Vengerberg, damn her.  
Jaskier pulled away from her when she sat close to him, offering him a cup of something steaming.  
It smelled lovely, which meant it was surely good for him and exactly the opposite of what he wanted in him.

"Why–" his throat was dry, making his voice sound rough and foreign, but it had been so long since he had spoken anyway. "Why didn't you just let me die?" He asked in a hushed tone, looking away from her as he opened his mouth, per her demand.

Despite his death wish, he would rather not have hot liquid poured into his lap.

"You and I both know I've always preferred to see you suffer." Yennefer answered with a bit of humor to her voice, violet eyes taking him in. 

"You've done this to yourself then?" She asked, helping him drink the tea. There was soft bread set to the side for him, but she wanted answers first.

The tea did wonders for the cotton feeling in his mouth and the dryness of his throat. It warmed the cold parts of his body, but as anything these days, it did not reach that empty cold in his chest that had been growing for seasons now.

"Oh, yes, yeah, I took a blade to myself multiple because I even carry a blade around with me, now," he replied dryly, rolling his eyes to look at the witch, a furrow to his brow. "I was attacked, and would have preferred to have been left in the snow if it's all the same to you."

"I didn't mean you getting stabbed and you know it." She huffed trying to decide if he was worth it. 

Of course he was. This was Jaskier, and despite how annoying he and his stupid songs were, she'd always secretly thought him a good man. One of the few good men she'd ever met. 

"The snow is too dull a way to die. You were once the greatest bard on the continent, you think I'll just let you bleed out on the side of the road? Where's the drama?" She huffed, moving to grab the tray of food she'd put together for him. 

Well... that she'd had put together for him. "Now eat. Can't make fun of you for being fat when you look like that."

The bard turned away from her, laying on his side despite the pain, just so he could have his back to her.

"I'm not hungry," he lied easily, having been telling himself that lie for so long it didn't feel like a lie anymore. His stomach no longer growled for food when he fed it only poisonous herbs that were meant to finish him. His stomach no longer craved sustenance when he filled it with more alcohol than should be possible.

"Greater men have died in far less dramatic ways, why should I think to be any better, any different? Why should I think myself to be somehow _more_ , or _special_ in comparison? Anyway I think I've had my full of drama," He sighed, letting his eyelids drift closed, wrapping his arms around himself.  
"Find something new to poke fun at me for. It's you, so I'm sure you can manage."

"I'm sure. You do look like shit." Yennefer teased, sitting next to him, a gentle hand placed on his back. "You need to eat or that tea is going to make you sick. Not enough to kill you, but enough that you'll probably shit the bed." She explained, standing and moving around the room. 

"You'll need a bath. You were sponge cleaned when you got here, but I won't have you bringing infection into my home."

He _hated_ her.  
Hated Yennefer of Vengerberg.  
Hated her because despite his hatred towards her, she was trying to help him.  
Hated her because despite the negative feelings she surely still held towards him, she was refusing to let him die.

With an irritated noise that might imitate a certain Witcher, were it deeper or more or at all convincing, Jaskier turned over and took the bread, biting into it and eating it. He wasn't about to shit the bed, even if it meant giving his body some bit of nutrients.

"Sponge cleaned is fine enough – I can just leave in a little time, not burden you any further," he murmured, finishing off the bread and moving to push himself to sitting.  
He winced, the movement pulling at his wounds in his side and his shoulder.

"You're not a burden. But you do stink." Yennefer said simply. "I'm worried I'll have to scrub you with a horse brush." She mocked him, pushing the soup, that was really just a broth, toward him. 

"Eat. We'll get you in the bath and see about finding you some clothes."

Sitting now on the edge of the bed, Jaskier threw his head back slightly, rolling his eyes.

"Why are you doing this, Yennefer? Eh? What do you get out of this, because from where I am sitting, I can't seem to find an angle here," the bard huffed, glancing to the broth and then to the witch providing it. "Why give a damn _now_ , about me? When I least want damns given for me."

"That's why." She said simply, looking him over. "You never get what you want out of life, Jaskier. That's the way of the woman." She shook her head, sitting down with him again.

"You can't just give up. You're better than that, you've suffered enough. You're better than _him_ , Jaskier. And there's... there's not a lot of men better than him, I'll give you that. But he doesn't deserve this, hes not worth it." She cut deep with this, she knew that. She remembered seeing him on the mountain after, broken and dull.

Jaskier's fingers curled into his palms, digging into them as he clenched his jaw, moving it from side to side a bit as he listened to her words, knowing she knew how they would hurt, mentioning him.

"It's the only fucking thing he's ever asked me for, Yennefer. _'If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.'_ " His voice trembled as he repeated the words the Witcher cut him with on that mountain, so many seasons ago. The words that continually dug into him until they repeated over and over in his head, becoming the only thing he knew, the thing he strived for.  
"I would see him sometimes, in the taverns I would play at, sitting in a back corner brooding, but he wasn't really there. But I would see him, all the same. I'd see him in the bath when I'd return to my room at night, see him on the road when I moved between towns. He would only ever repeat those words to me, and never actually be there, but it was a reminder that I couldn't escape from the possibility of running into him. ...not while I was alive, anyway," he admitted, his voice shaking as he spoke, hating that he could feel tears, hot on his cheeks as he spoke, staring down at the floor as his nails dug into his palms. His long hair hung in his face and he swallowed heavily, squeezing his eyes closed.

"I can just give up, because that's my choice, and I'm so damn tired of running, of moving. I can't sing anymore, I can't write anymore, so what's the use? What good is a bard with no muse? What good a poet with no words left to use? I'm so... I'm so tired, Yen. So fucking tired."

Yennefer took his hands in hers. She remembered what it felt like to give up. To be put in the position of wanting to end her life. That was so long ago. 

"You did travel with him for years... I forgot about that." She sighed, scooting a little closer to Jaskier. "But you used to be so much more than he was. He deserves to see you flourish without him. He should know the pain he caused you, but he should think you don't need him." She whispered, giving his hands a squeeze. 

"You'll find your words again, they'll hurt, but they'll be yours."

He looked up to her violet eyes, seeing the truth in her words there, she believed what she said, and he could see the pain there, too.  
Tears still slipping down his cheeks, he squeezed her hands in his and nodded, heaving a breath.

"Leave it to you to have the right thing to say," he murmured with a soft breath of a laugh, the tension in his body seeming to deflate. "Thank you, Yennefer..."

He didn't believe it himself just yet, a huge part of him still plotting his own death as soon as Yennefer deemed him well enough to leave her care. ...but a small bit of light returned to his chest, a small piece of warmth.  
If the Witcher could carry on after saying such a thing to him, after all they'd been through, and held no guilt or need to apologize, then Jaskier could flourish without him, could find his words again.

Yennefer almost felt wrong for having sent Geralt a letter. She was sure that, by the time he got it, she could have Jaskier looking far better.  
She could already see a faint light in his eyes, nothing like he used to hold, but the sparks were there. 

"Go on now. Eat. I'll give you your bath and we can sit in the garden. You could use some sun."

He nodded, giving her hands a final squeeze before releasing them in favor of taking up the bowl with the broth in it. He was slow about finishing it, the warmth of it seeming to flood through his body and push out some of the permanent cold that winter had set into his bones.  
He shuddered as the temperature in his body changed so drastically and set the bowl to the side again.

"Much better." Yennefer hummed, making sure he finished the whole bowl. "Alright. Time to get up. You smell like death and those sheets are going to have to be burned." She shot the bed setting a look.  
"Hopefully your breakup song is good because you'll owe me for those."

He pushed himself up, holding his side as he did so and shot Yennefer a look, his brow furrowed.  
"My breakup song? Bit soon for that, isn't it, Yennefer? Or do you always talk people down from the ledge only to shove them right back there?" He asked, raising a brow. His tone was light, but it held some bit of the darkness she was helping him to shed. "Besides... a breakup song has to have involved an actual relationship, and there was no relationship. It was all one-sided, even the friendship part of it all."

Yennefer wanted to tell him he was wrong, tell him of all the glances she'd caught, how often she'd catch Geralt humming his songs when he thought he was alone. Wanted to tell him about how he'd looked at him after the Djinn. 

Selfishness told her not to. 

"Well, you'll have to make something up. Those weren't cheap." She teased him, offering out one of her robes to the man. "This will have to do until we can get you your own clothes."

"I'll be sure to make it up to you, Yen," he replied with a roll of his eyes, taking the thin and beautiful robe to wrap around himself.  
Were he any bigger, the delicate number wouldn't fit around him, but in his current state, it fit well, despite making him look even more sickly than he had looked lying in that bed.

"Nothing will be quite like what I've already written..." he added with a sigh, thinking of taking up a different name for himself, to run further from his past with the Witcher – whom he couldn't even bare to think his name.

She shook her head. "It won't be. But sometimes change is what you need." She sighed, watching Jaskier.

"Sometimes the best thing a flower can do for us is die." She said the words, eyes distant. The meaning of it was once so different to her, looking up at Jaskier. "But I've learned death comes in many forms, and isn't always the end. And if there isnt a use for that flower, you make use for it." She added, hoping he'd understand what she was saying. What she meant. 

Prayed the words would have a different effect on him than they did to her all those years ago

Her words hit him, something like a harsh slap to the face or a splash of ice cold water.  
A part of him wanted to scream at her that that was precisely what he had been trying to do, but damn Fate wouldn't allow for it.

...but another part seemed to understand. Or, understood to a point.  
Perhaps, he needed to be pushed so far to the ledge as he had been so that he would fight for his way back. Perhaps he needed the Witcher to push him away so that he could start his Path anew.  
It was time for Jaskier to die, but that did not mean that the rest of him died along with that name.

He knew exactly where to start for this new Path.

"...thank you, Yennefer. Again. Think I needed to hear that," he murmured quietly, truthfully.

Yennefer let Jaskier be, holding her tongue and deciding he'd gone through enough abuse. She waited for him at the door, leading the way to the bath. 

She lit candles, grabbing someone to fill the water for her, dropping oils and flower petals into the water. Just because he smelled, didn't mean he shouldn't enjoy the bath. 

She couldn't help but think of Jaskier's strength. He looked like he'd lived through several muggings, could see he'd lived through poisoning, the evidence stretched in wretched colors on his yellowed skin, most likely from all the drink. 

It wouldn't be easy to bring him back to himself, but if he could endure al of that, and all of the help, she would try.

Jaskier moved to follow the witch, a brow raised as he watched her make up the bath, far fancier a bath than he'd ever really had. This was Yennefer though, of course, and she never seemed to do things half-arsed.

"All this just for me?" He asked, brushing long hair from his face - mercy, he needed to cut that, his curls were a mess. "Do you treat all your wounded, wishing for death, bardly guests to baths as lovely as this, Yennefer?" He asked, with a bit of that teasing he used to be capable of, but the playfulness of his tease did not brighten his eyes as it once did. The vibrant blue did not come back yet, his eyes still a dull grayish blue.

She was trying, it was obvious, so he should make an effort to try as well, shouldn't he? She could have turned him away - _should have, let him rot_ \- but she brought him in and tended to his wounds and fed him.  
He wasn't as much a fool as people thought, he had seen the marks on her wrist, knew that if they hadn't been important she could have been rid of them in her transformation that witch's go through. She had tried taking her life at one point, he never asked, but he knew that much at least, from the marks.  
Perhaps someone gave her the tough love she needed to turn around, and so she chose now to do the same for him?

Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, should he flourish as she seemed to think, he would have no idea how he could ever thank her.

"Get in the water then." She said simply, offering her hand out to him. "Careful, it's a step down." She waited for him to drop the robe, looking him over once he did. 

Bones were visible through his skin and she was sure he'd go into withdrawals, body so used to alcohol. He'd need fatty foods and protien. She'd be sure to give him tea with each meal, possibly something sweet after too motivate him. 

It would be miserable work for the both of them, but he'd be better for it.

Dropping the pretty thin robe, Jaskier took Yennfer's hand and stepped into the warmth of the bath, a gasp pulling from his lips as the temperature hit him.

Sinking lower and lower in, until he was up to his neck, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Breathing felt heavier, more of a challenge under the weight of the water, but the rest of him felt weightless and soothed by the wonderful warmth.

"Merciful Melitele– this is nice," he murmured, his voice still rough and a bit quiet from having been silent for so long, on his own for so long.

Yennefer knelt on the floor next to the water, dropping some salts into the water for his poor muscles. She laid on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, just watching him soak for now. 

"That's it, there's some color in those cheeks." She praised, lazily dipping her fingers into the water just to feel the warmth of it. 

She thought back on the bath she'd shared with Geralt, wishing she didn't have to think on him now.

The warm water practically seeped into every bit of him. The oils and salts helped the warm water to soothe his aches and pains and he couldn't help the soft groan as he leaned his head back against the higher ground. His eyes fluttered open, a hint of blue back in that grey of his eyes as he looked to Yennefer, lounging on the ground at the side.

He started to hum softly, not any of his previous songs, but something new, something he was testing. Only a few notes before he stopped and closed his eyes again.

The silence was comfortable, it was something he'd grown accustomed to, and this companionable silence was better than the one he shared with the Witcher-who-shall-not-be-named.

Yennefer got bored, just watching him, dipping her hands into the water, splashing his face playfully. "You should let me was your hair." She hummed, sitting up a little now. 

She'd never seen the bard so peacefully quiet. He used to make so much noise, singing and laughing, being a public nuisance. 

She would kill Geralt when he arrived for what he'd done to Jaskier.

"I should let you?" He asked softly, peeking an eye open and breathing a laugh. "It's not as though I am in any state to deny you anything, Yennefer. I even doubt I could have were I in nominal health state," he replied with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He'd never seen this side of the witch, always assumed she was rather harsh and determined all the way around.

"I must admit, I may have been at least in some part wrong about you, Yennefer," he added quietly, closing his eyes again because he knew he could trust her.  
She wasn't the sort that wasted efforts, so she wouldn't get him to feeling this slight better only to drown or bleed him here in the bath.

She could be ruthless he knew, but not stupidly so.

"I won't tell a soul, but... you do have something of a soft side, don't you?"

Perhaps he had never seen it through his veil of jealousy...

"You'll keep your mouth shut or I'll have your tongue." Yennefer teased, readjusting herself so she could pull up her skirt and let her feet slip into the tub on the sides of Jaskier's shoulders. 

"I'm not a horrible creature you think me to be. I did save your life once before." She reminded, taking a pitcher from the side of the tub, filling it with water.

"I did say I wouldn't tell a soul! Not as though I've a soul I could tell anyway," he huffed, shifting slightly in the water as she sat behind him, her legs either side of his shoulders.

"As for your having saved me before, I do remember, though I tend to try not to recall the after bits," he replied with a shrug, absently leaning his head back against her, his eyes still closed.

Lilac and gooseberries.  
That's what it was.  
She smelled of lilacs and gooseberries.

She worked the water through his hair, not much caring if she got her legs wet, starting to massage soaps into Jaskier's hair. 

"Sorry... I hadn't known then." She whispered, moving her hands through his hair and against his neck.

Her hands were like magic through his hair - which of course, made a semblance of sense since she did deal in magic, being a witch and all.  
The way she moved her hands, massaged the soaps into his scalp and brushed against his neck-  
It made him shiver and let out soft sounds of his contentment.

"Hadn't known that I was a complete idiot? I won't hold it against you– we had only just met after-all and I told you I left my cat on the stove."

She laughed, a light cheerful thing. "You called me hot and terrifying." She teased him, bumping his ribs with her toes. 

"You're an odd little thing, Jaskier." She hummed, rubbing oil into his hair.

"Well it wasn't a lie! You are _incredibly_ attractive, and equally or more so incredibly terrifying," he laughed, the first bright sounding thing that came from him as she tickled his sides, intentionally or otherwise, with her toes.

He settled again, shuddering slightly as she rubbed wonderful smelling oils into his now too long mess of curly hair.  
"...I think I'm going to use a different stage name," he blurted quietly, tilting his head back to look up at Yennefer.

"Oh?" Yennefer asked, running his hands through his hair, interested in whatever he had to say. He really did have a charming conversational voice. 

When he wasn't using it to sling insults at her.

"My work as 'Jaskier' is over. The 'humble bard' that did all his travelings with the Witcher, and wrote of their adventures," he clenched his jaw, tension returning to him for a moment before he let out a breath again, forcibly relaxing back against her.

"So, I think it only appropriate that I... let 'Jaskier' die. Move on with a different stage name," he looked up at her again, a little smile tugging the corner of his lips. "You did know that was just a stage name, didn't you?"

"Had a theory it wasn't your real name. That, and you introduced yourself a few times as nobility to get women to sleep with you." Yennifer teased, thumbs working at the muscles in his neck. 

"So, what's your new name?" She asked curiously. She was curious to know his real name, but it really didn't matter. 

"And I'm sorry, but did you say 'humble bard'? That's a laugh."

Her thumbs working along the muscles in his neck drew a groan from past his lips, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

"Also not a lie – I am, for all intents and purposes, nobility. I just tend not to associate with that aspect of my life," he shrugged slightly, her movements dragging another soft groan from him, morphing into a whimper as he squirmed at a particularly painful part.

"'Humble bard' is what I referred to myself as in my songs, didn't you notice? No? Anyway– ...you're going to laugh."

"There's no such thing as a humble bard." She dug, a smirk on her face. "I'll probably laugh anyway." She said, focusing on the spot where he'd winced.

"Go on then, let's hear it."

He squirmed again slightly, digging his fingers into his own leg until he felt the tension in his neck subside and release.  
Sighing, knowing she wouldn't let it go and he owed her this much, he leaned back to look up at her.

"Dandelion."

Yennefer bit her lip, fighting the giggle she had promised him. "Oh? Dandelion?" He asked, letting him rest his head on her thigh. 

"You are a little yellow." She teased, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Certainly yellow bellied." She couldn't let him think she was nice. 

"Dandelion..." she repeated in thought, a soft smile on her face.

"It's symbolic!" He huffed, swatting lightly at her leg in the water, barely making any sort of impact against it.  
"If you had any idea the translation of 'Jaskier'–" he sighed, shaking his head before carrying on.  
"Dandelions are pesky weeds. Unwanted flowers that seem to grow wherever they please. Difficult to get rid of and typically come back if you've pulled them up."

He shrugged slightly, closing his eyes.  
"Thought it was suiting enough of a name."

"I didn't say I didn't like it." She hummed, lifting her hands up off him. "Scoot up." She combed her fingers through his hair. 

"Don't turn around." She hummed, pushing him forward before pulling her dress off over her head. She waited for him to scoot up before sliding into the water, sitting with her back against his.

He scooted as she demanded of him, shuddering when the water shifted and the feeling if skin pressed against his back.  
She felt soft, to all of the edges he currently had. She was rounded and smooth where he was bones and sharp edges. Her body held at least a bit of it's own warmth where, if he were out of this water, his skin would surely return to the cold it held better than warmth.

Without words, he relaxed back against her, letting his eyes close so he could concentrate on the feeling of her body moving with each breath against his.

This was... soft. It wasn't anything like what he ever imagined Yennifer to be, and yet here they were, in a bath together, her taking care of him, attempting to bring him back to health.

In the contemplative, companionable silence, he hummed softly, that new tune he found a few notes for.

She sighed at the sound of his humming, resting her head against his back. 

She could feel the bumps of his spine, his ribs showing against his skin, stretched tight across his body. She could feel and hear the way he'd struggled to breathe, probably from sleeping out in the cold. 

She hated the way his skin colored, the was his face as far too thin and his eyes dead. But she'd fix that in time. 

After a while of rubbing water and oils onto her skin. She stood, moving out if the water. "I'll poke your eyes out if you look." She threatened lightly, letting the water roll down her body, pulling her dress back on. The light colored fabric sticking to her damp skin. 

"Come on, let's get you out." She hummed, holding a towel out to him.

Pulled from the comfortable daze he had hummed himself into, he moved only when she beckoned him out of the water.  
He held back the whine as the cool air brought bumps to his skin. He gratefully wrapped the towel around himself, his teeth chattering slightly.

"Couldn't have been comfortable, bathing so close to me," he murmured, holding to the towel. "But it was nice. Thank you, for all of this."

He felt like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the negative in all this kindness, all this care, as the witch pulled him from the edge and nursed him back to himself, or at least a healthier version of whoever he was going to be now.

She wrapped the towel around him, followed by the robe around his shoulders. "Wasn't so bad. Now that you don't smell of infection anymore." She'd have to get him something thicker than that, feeling him shiver. 

A blanket would do for now. She brought him back to the room where someone had changed the sheets on the bed. "Climb in. You look like you're freezing." She sighed, watching before moving to start up the fireplace. 

She stuck her head out the door asking someone to bring food and drink up to the room. She'd let him to have some ale so he wouldn't get violently sick all at once. At least long enough that she could fix that infection in his lungs before making him stop drinking.

Climbing into the bed and wrapping the blanket on it around himself, he still gave a shiver, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.  
"I'm more ice than man these days, I think," he laughed, but there was no joy in it, it was hollow.

He could damn near feel her assessing him and the damage and what it would take to make him better with every look she spared him. He wanted to tell her that she could just throw him back out, now that he was clean and his wounds were bandaged, but he had the feeling that would only earn him a swat to the head or some other form of reprimand.  
She seemed determined to help him, to fix him. ...only, he wasn't sure how much of him was left there to be fixed.

"How long have you been in this area?" He asked quietly, staring into the fire and trying to absorb the warmth it gave off.

Out of the water that made his body feel better than it had in an age, he was back to feeling and noticing the aches, the way his chest hurt when he breathed, the throb of pain in his shoulder and side from his wounds, and the odd twist of pain in his stomach.

Guess it did remember how to be hungry.

"About a year now." She explained, going to the wardrobe and pulling out a robe for herself to put on. 

"I've made myself comfortable here. Since the wars, not too many mages around, so any town is happy to have one." She explained, moving to close the curtains and sit on the bed with him. 

She flashed a smile when food was brought in for the both of them, setting it between them and picking at it. 

Everything there had some sort of healing benefits. She'd make sure Jaskier was better in no time.

"...has _he_ visited you, here?" He asked carefully, crossing his legs under himself as he picked at the food that was brought for them, appeasing the ache in his stomach that he hadn't paid mind to in some time.

It felt... strange, indeed, to be eating actual foods again, instead of just the herbs he had once been told not to consume.

"From what I remember, you didn't typically stay anywhere for very long. Getting comfortable and settling in somewhere suits you, though. It looks good on you," he commented absently, leaning back on the bed after eating only a little bit, enough to make the ache go away.

"Of course he never visited. You think I wanted anything to do with him after?" Yennefer glared at him, picking at some of the fruit, wishing Jaskier would eat more. 

"At least finish the tea, it's your medicine." She sighed, watching him relax back. "I was afraid of sticking around. Decided I'd done too much moving. I'll move on from here when I'm ready."

His brow furrowed, an indignant anger bubbling in him for Yennefer's sake. He at least had _feelings_ for her, and he didn't even bother to visit when she's stayed in one place so long?  
Maybe he shouldn't have worried so much about moving so often, if that was the case...

With a protesting grumble, Jaskier sat up again so that he could finish down his tea and make her worry less.  
"I suppose a part of me should be thankful that you had stayed here. The part of me that's considering getting better."

"I'm glad you're at least considering it." Yennifer smiled, a soft laugh as she watched him drink the bitter tea. 

"Maybe you'll be easy on me when the painful healing has to happen." She felt a little sympathy for Jaskier, wishing he didn't have to deal with this. 

"Dandelion, that's what you want me to call you, right?" She asked curiously, looking up at him again. She could see his hair drying, knowing she should brush it before it gets tangled.

"Dandelion, yes," he replies, making a face at the tea cup once he had finished it down, like it was somehow the cups fault the tea had been bitter and not all that enjoyable.  
Setting the cup back, he leaned back on the bed again, wrapping towel, robe and blanket around himself to attempt to gather some warmth into his body.

"Things are going to get not pretty, rather quickly, aren't they? In terms of healing..."

"Yes." She answered him simply, watching him carefully. "I'll do my best to make it hurt as little as possible, but you'll go through withdrawls soon. The poison, the drink... your body has grown too used to it." She explained, watching him sadly. 

"It's why you're shivering so bad. That and the pain." She explained, letting her hand rest on his ankle. "I'll give you something to sleep, but you won't like any of this."

"Thought it was just from the cold," he admitted absently, furrowing his brow as he heaved a sigh.

Evidently, he had to suffer a bit more, it seemed. Suffered to get to where he was, suffer to get out.

"...will you stay here with me?" he asked, before realizing–  
"Do you even have another bed or is... is this it? Because if this is it, I'm sorry, and if you have another... will you stay with me? Just for a little while."

Yennefer smiled and nodded, knowing how hard it was asking for company. "I'll stay with you." She agreed, settling in and making herself comfortable.

In the night, Dandelion curled close to the witch, trying to steal her body heat for his own, and over the next few days, he seemed to open up a bit more.

He talked with Yennefer, told her about his travels since the mountain, the dragons. He talked briefly about times with the Witcher, still refusing to use his name.

But while his state of being seemed to improve, his body seemed to deteriorate. More frequently he found himself falling into fits of pain, shaking and trembling and clutching at himself as pain shot through his body. He sobbed and he screamed and he curled in on himself and Yennefer would be there to soothe him, to give him something to ease the attack until it faded again and they could carry on as they were.

About 2 weeks into his stay with Yennefer, Dandelion woke drenched in sweat, trembling uncontrollably as pain like no other burned and tore through his body and he screamed, but no sound came from him. It was like his insides were dying, slowly.

Yennefer gave him everything she could think of, eventually just having to knock him out to ease his pain. 

She sighed, knowing of something that would cure him, but it involved something incredibly dangerous for her to get. She sent another letter to the Witcher, telling him what she needed and where to get it. 

That if he brought it to her she would consider forgiving him. 

She hated the thought of that, especially after what he'd done to Dandelion. Hated him. 

But she couldn't lose her little flower, not now when light fills his eyes and he sings awful songs to her without music. If she has to hear that filthy song about the fishmonger one more time.

He found himself wondering more than once if this pain he was enduring now was all worth it. If it wouldn't be better for both himself and poor Yennefer if he just died instead. He knew she wasn't sleeping very much, because he wasn't sleeping very much.  
The pains throughout his body were getting gradually worse instead of better, and he felt himself getting weaker.  
He could scarcely get out of bed, now, without very heavily leaning to the witch for her support.

He begged her softly to let him go, sometimes. Begged for her to make it stop, the pain, all of it. He was having less and less lucid moments, less and less painless time to spend healing his spirit and working on the song that was to be his first hit as the bard Dandelion.

He hadn't even recited it to Yennefer yet.

"Yen..." he whimpered, reaching for her as his fever pitched, his body trembling.

He kept thinking, _what if she puts in all this work to fix me and I die anyway?_

Yennefer crawled up onto the bed, holding a vial in her hands. "Drink this. It's for your fever." She whispered, wrapping her arms around him, letting him rest his head on her chest. 

"Shh... sweet thing. You'll feel better soon, just rest for me." She whispered, pressing small kisses to his sweaty forehead. The contact was more for her wellbeing and comfort than his own. 

She finally cared for something again, after all this time, and she wasn't going to let Fate take him. What was the point of being so powerful if she couldn't even save the one she loved?

Her body, once feeling so warm against his cool skin, now felt cool against him as his body burned. But he drank from the vial she put to his lips.  
She was so gentle to him, so sweet, and she said such lovely things that his fevered brain couldn't piece together as actual words and sentences, but the tone to them was nice to hear, that much he knew.

He drifted back into a fitful sleep as she kissed his forehead, his body still trembling against hers.  
He had to be dying. This had to be what slowly dying felt like– well, actually, yes. He knew what slowly dying felt like, because of the Djinn, and the Witcher's wish for silence.  
It felt rather similar to this, only this was 10 fold that pain.

Yennifer held him as he rested reading through books and writing to other healers. She needed something and quick. 

She prayed that the useless Witcher would come though for her, bringing her what she needed. Or at least hoping he'd die trying. Jaskier deserved that much from the man.

A few days passed from when Yennefer sent out the letter to the Witcher. Upon receiving it, Geralt set out to retrieve what it is the witch wrote for. It seemed urgent, and as he had nothing else he was currently handling... Plus, he... owed her that much, at the very least, despite the item in question being a rather difficult retrieval.

It was a week from when the letter was sent out that Geralt, stinking of monster ichor and dripping with it, arrived at Yennefer's door.  
He knocked roughly and waited, looking around curiously.  
From the smell of the place, she had settled here for quite some time...

The knock stirred Danelion from the rest he had slipped into of his own accord, a whimper falling past his lips.

Yennefer hushed him, running her fingers through his long sweaty curls. "Shh... go back to sleep, love." She whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Just rest. I'll be back before you know. Bring you some tea." She offered, getting up and going to where one of her men answered the door. 

She felt her stomach drop, seeing the man standing in the doorway. "Geralt." She said flatly, voice dripping with poison. She thought defensively of the man in her bed.

He whimpered quietly when she left his side, but did his best to relax enough that he drifted back into a light sleep.

"Yennefer," Geralt replied in his usual gruff manner, looking over her curiously. She smelled... different, but now wasn't the time for that. "I have what you asked for," he added, gesturing to Roach and one of the packs that seemed to be... oozing. "What is it for, anyway?"

More like, what was so important that after years of not speaking to him, she reached out via an urgent letter?

Yennefer looked at the container in disgust. "Healing potion. Someone with incredible value needed me to make them something to bounce back. Nothing else was working, infection and organ shut down..." she explained as if it weren't about someone she cared for. Someone Geralt _should_ have cared for. 

"This should do nicely thank you. I'll give you triple the payment." She said simply, gesturing to her servant to grab the coin for Geralt and to bring everything in. 

She was furious at how good he looked. How he seemed to hold the same neutral expression he always did. After all the pain he'd caused she'd hoped that he'd gotten ugly or something. At least looked apologetic.

"Hmm..." he furrowed his brow, moving to take the item from the pack to give to the servant that was bringing him the coin Yennefer was offering. "Sounds like trouble. And you really don't owe me this much, Yen," he looked to the coin purse with something that was as close to apologetic as his face could probably get.  
"I came because you actually called on me. It's... been a long time," he added, looking over her carefully, trying to notice any changes, aside from the way she smelled slightly of wildflowers and sickly sweet sweat that didn't belong to her.

"It has been. And entirely of your own doing, Witcher." She hissed, forcing a cheerful look to her face. She hated him for what he did to Dandelion, but part of her still loved him. 

A small part of her that she could easily grind under her heel. "Thank you, for your service. I pay you extra because I know the danger, and you were once a friend." She hummed, still feeling too nice to him. 

She felt weak, naked in front of him. She hadn't worn nice clothes or makeup in the days since Jaskier had arrived. She wasn't wearing the mask she usually allowed herself. 

Aside from that she wanted him to go so she could go upstairs and try the medicine. 

"Maybe don't be gone so long next time. You might win my favor." She said simply, standing taller, turning to go up the stairs, knowing the parts would be brought to the kitchen where she could deal with them there. 

She had to have a clear head, but now her body was screaming with anger and grief just at the sight of him.

Blinking, and grunting his confusion, Geralt furrowed his brow again. "Yennefer," he growled softly, watching her turn away from him.  
It wasn't just the smell – she had held herself differently, and was now, too. She seemed anxious, or worried. Something was wrong and she wasn't saying it, wasn't sharing.

...not that he entirely blamed her. He hadn't done anything to make her feel like she could depend on him. Except this.

"I could offer my assistance if you need the extra hands. Or if there's anything else you might need. I can sense your worry over this, Yen."

And your hatred.  
Which, was also deserved, he supposed.

"This was all I needed from you, Geralt." Yennifer looked him over sadly. "This next part requires me to be alone." 

She wanted to tell him to get out. Leave and come back when hell froze over. 

"I'm a little busy right now, time is of priority. So, I must bid you goodbye. For now." She frowned, that soft part of her showing its stupid ugly head. "I'd like if you came around sometimes. I hate to say it, but it's good to see you well. Seems that those 5 years really didn't mean much to you. You really didn't need anyone." She took the opportunity to walk away now. She had to prepare herself for something that would drain her energy.

"Hmmm," he sighed breath out his nose, nodding. "I'll see you again, then, Yennefer. Soon, maybe," he added, not even flinching – externally – at her dig about not needing anyone.

It was better this way.  
She seemed to be doing really well for herself, despite looking exhausted and a bit like she was being pushed to her limits.  
Were they still more mixed into each other's lives, she may have died by now, or been hurt or any number of things that he didn't want for her.  
...or for Jaskier.  
But he hadn't heard hide nor tail of the bard, either. Less so, even, than the witch. At least she made small ripples, the bard was silent, and he was never silent.

In his sleep, Dandelion had started to violently thrash about, throwing himself to the floor with a sharp cry that woke him. Blearily, he looked around for Yennifer, but did not find her immediately.

Yennefer's attention whipped up the stairs, hearing the large thud from the bedroom, and she rushed her way up the stairs two at a time.  
"Dandelion!?" She called, feeling a little frantic, seeing him so out of sorts. "Shh... you're going to be fine. Let's get you back in bed." She breathed, struggling a little to lift him, not wanting to cause him further pain.

She got him back to the bed, wiping the sweat off his face with a damp towel. "There you are. Everything will be over soon, I promise you. I'll make you better."

He blinked up at her slowly, his breathing shallow. A smile touched his lips as she cleaned him up a bit, whispering softly and sweetly to him as she tended to do more often now.  
He knew the song he would write next would be for her. Perhaps each one after that would be for her as well.

"Nie chcę już umrzeć," he whispered, reaching up to touch her face with a trembling hand. He brushed his thumb against her cheek only a moment before his arm fell back to his side and his breathing stopped.

"Shh... I don't know what you're saying." She whispered to him, stomach clenching. She loved when Dandelion would speak to her. Half the time she didn't understand the language, having grown up only speaking Common, but she could feel the sentiment in what he said. She didn't know the words but she hated them. 

She listened for a moment, hearing nothing from him, the rattle in his lungs, his usual constant groaning, nothing. Just silence. 

Her shaking hands grasped at him, touching his face, moving to his shoulders. She started to panic, getting angry when her vision started to blur, eyes burning, realizing her throat felt raw from her screaming.

She shook Dandelion, pounding on his chest, knowing the medicine for him would take hours to make. She simply didn't have that time right now. 

She lifted him, trying to drag him back up to the bed, pour cold water on him, something to shock his system. She could barely think, body shaking, begging and pleading to the gods to not let him die. Hadn't she seen enough people die?

Whether it be the chest pounding, the different angle at which she laid him, the cold water or the mercy of the gods – something was shock enough to his system that Dandelion's rattling breath returned to his lungs, weak and unstable.

His body was shutting down and there wasn't a lot of time, even with the little that Yennefer had somehow bought them.

He didn't open his eyes again, didn't move or speak again, but the rattle of his breath and the far too slow beat of his weak heart was there.

Yennefer held onto him tightly, hearing his horrid rasping start again. She called someone in to help her move him to her workspace. 

She didn't want him out of her sight. If it meant she had to keep him propped up while she worked and had to perform the ritual out there, then so be it.

She had the help, getting him settled in, wrapped in blankets and propped up so it was easier for him to breathe and she got to work, making paste out of the organs Geralt had brought her. 

Desperation made her move quick, but she took the time to be sure she was doing it right. Once it was boiling on the heat, she prepped the floor, clearing space, marking the floor with ash and chalk. She lit candles and got everything ready. She had to do this part without help, struggling to bring Dandelion into the circle, feeling terrible when she stripped him down, knowing he was still so cold. 

She pulled off her own clothes, working naked as not to contaminate anything. She started to paint the required sigils onto his body in the paste made from the monster gut. She put the remainder of it in his mouth, shoving the required herbs and offal into his throat.

She opened the windows, starting the ritual, kneeling at Dandelion's head, speaking the words and hoping her Chaos was strong enough. 

She currently didn't feel very strong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick chapter before I go off to work  
> hope you lot are enjoying this soft little angst thing so far ♡
> 
> I'm absolutely enamored with mewsifer's portrayal of Yennefer, myself
> 
> anyway! onwards!

It is a good week later when Dandelion finally wakes again, his eyelids fluttering open with no recollection of the ritual or that he had momentarily died in Yennefer's arms in the very bed he now woke in. He blinked a few more times, looking around himself, looking to the ceiling and then–  
Yennefer?  
Where is Yennefer?

He pushed himself to sitting up, the movement a little too quick for a body that was clearly still recovering. His vision went dark for a moment as his blood rushed to catch up to him now sitting upright.  
Opening his mouth to call for her, no sound escaped him. No sound, no call for her, nothing but breath. Blinking in his confusion, he tried again, to the same result.  
No sound.  
No voice.  
Only his breath on the air.

He reached his hands to his throat, swallowing heavily as a panic started to surge in his body.  
Why couldn't he speak?  
Was this permanent?  
Merciful Melitele, he hoped it wasn't.  
How would he sing? How would he talk to Yennefer? How would he, very specifically, sing to Yennefer his new song?

Yennefer made her way into the room, exhausted and worn down. She'd seen improvement in Dandelion's condition, that wretched rattle when he breathed had finally gone away and his body was finally cooling down. 

She knew he would need plenty of rest after such a ritual, but she wished it wouldn't take so long. She wished she knew he would wake. 

She walked to the room, looking down at the tea she always prepared, and always sat cold, in the hopes that he'd wake up and need it.

But now, as her eyes met his, beautiful cerulean blue, she froze, shock causing her hands to open sending the tea set crashing to the floor. She stood in shock, tears making their way down her cheeks. She was determined this was a dream. She'd wake to him laying there lifeless any minute now.

The crash of the tea set to the floor made him jump, though he watched as it happened. It had been so loud in his ears, though, so it confirmed for him that it wasn't his ears that were betraying him, it was indeed his voice.

Carefully, seeing her tears, Dandelion reached out for her, pulled himself up from the bed to move to her. His knees wobbled and he very nearly fell into broken glass and hot tea, but he made it to her side and wrapped his arms around her, gently brushing at the tears on her pretty cheeks.

Yennefer.  
Beautiful Yennefer.  
Sweet and strong Yennefer, crying for him.  
How long had he been out for? What happened that he couldn't recall?

It wasn't like he could ask her now, it seemed, so he held her quietly, his own eyes welling with tears that slipped down his cheeks.

Yennefer stood, frozen in his arms, for what felt an eternity. She eventually got her mind back, wrapping her arms tightly around him, clinging to him, sobbing into his chest. 

Horrible sounds, gasping for air as she violently shook against him. She whispered his name a few times before managing to pull away from him, bringing him back to the bed. 

"You absolute idiot!" She cried out, furiously putting him to bed, tucking him back in and fussing over his hair. "You shouldn't be out of bed yet. You've just woke up, haven't had anything to eat in over a week! You can't just _do_ that you bastard!" She breathed, eyes soft and heart feeling so light. She wiped her face on her sleeve, gently running her thumbs over his cheeks.

She was yelling at him, but he couldn't help the smile that lit his face and brightened his blue eyes as he looked up at her, reached up to push dark hair behind her ear.

He tried to speak again, tried to tell her that he couldn't just lay here in bed like some lame beast while she broke down and cried for him so. Very ungentlemanly of him, were he to have just stayed in bed.  
Besides, her yelling like this was worth it. It was the most energetic he could recall her being in some time.

But again no sound made it past his throat as his mouth moved.  
Annoyed with this development, he pressed himself up to press his forehead to hers, at least showing her that he was here, that he was fine thank you very much, and she needn't go about continuing to call him a bastard, or an idiot, or any worse things.

She felt her body give in, just leaning against him. With no fight left in her, all the tension her body held for so long, she felt so tired. She knew he needed things: food, water, probably had to go to the bathroom, but she couldn't keep going. 

Before she knew what she was doing, Yennefer climbed up on the bed, climbing on top of Dandelion and laid down on top of him. She rested her head on his chest, letting herself silently cry as she listened to his heart beating, steady and strong. For the first time in days she slept, almost the second her head touched his chest.

Dandelion felt heat in his cheeks when his beautiful witch climbed onto him, a worry settling in that perhaps he had been gone far too long–  
...but she held him, rested her head against him and listened to his heart as she fell asleep there in his arms.

A smile tugged his lips again and he let his own body relax beneath hers, trailing fingers through her long hair until he had drifted back to a peaceful rest.

He woke again a few hours later, the weight of his witch still warm on top of him and he leaned down to gently press his lips to her forehead, holding them there for a quiet moment before he moved to lay back, fingers idly carding through her hair.

How long had she waited for him? How long without sleep? How long and how hard had she pushed herself to make him better?  
She deserved this rest.

Yennefer stirred awake at the press of lips on her forehead, still so used to waking up, fearing she would be in bed with a corpse. 

But today, she felt hands in her hair, gentle and loving. She turned her head, opening her eyes slowly, a smile sliding its way across her face. "Hi." She whispered, reaching up to touch his face, loving the color of those impossibly blue eyes, so much more life in them now. 

There was pink to his cheeks, and shine to his hair, and dear gods he was beautiful. 

She was afraid he'd leave her. Not quite yet, but at some point. He didn't need her anymore.

_Hi,_ he mouthed to her, still no sound escaping him as he smiled at her still resting against his chest.

She looked better, now that she had rested. Far less frantic and like she might keel over on the spot, which were both good. The rest had helped her, she had needed it, even if it was just a simple nap.

Had she gotten any rest in the time he couldn't remember? Actual restful sleep?  
He doubted it, by how she had looked when she came into the room.  
Drained, exhausted, and so utterly sad.

She didn't look that way now, and for that he was thankful – that deep sadness had no right presenting in her lovely eyes.

 _How are you?_ he mouthed to her, hoping she was good at reading lips.

Yennefer frowned, watching Dandelion's mouth move but no sound coming out. "You've lost your voice?" She asked, propping herself up just a bit. She sat up, kneeling just above his stomach, giving his throat a feel. 

"No swelling or blockage, it's probably temporary." She hoped. She was eager to hear whatever bullshit that usually came out of his mouth. 

She stayed kneeling over him, the smell of stale tea in the room, turning toward where she'd dropped it earlier. 

"I bet you're starved. Let's get you up and see if we can't get you feeling better."

_Temporary.  
Thank the gods..._  
He didn't think he could survive very well without his voice.

In response to her words and mention of being starved, Dandelion's stomach growled rather loudly in the space between them, as if making up for the fact that he couldn't speak, and he laughed – also silently.

If temporary, how temporary?

He reached up to her, cupping her cheek lightly as he gestured with his head that they should perhaps move.  
He could have stayed in bed with her forever if that were even a remote possibility.

As he did, a knock echoed from the front door, loud and hard.

Yennefer sighed heavily, climbing off of him. She moved over to the wardrobe, knowing she couldn't answer the door in her current state. She pulled a clean cotton dress out, letting her current one drop from her shoulders and to the ground. 

She stepped into the clean one, fixing her hair in the mirror, rubbing on just a little lip color with her fingertip. 

Feeling so much more like herself, she smiled at Dandelion over her shoulder. "I'll see what that's all about. Then we can eat and get you in the bath." She hummed, stepping over the broken tea set, going into the entry area of her house. 

"Ah! You've come back. And within this decade too! To what do I owe the visit?" She asked, slowly stepping down the stairs.

Geralt grunted in greeting and held a bag out to her.  
"Magical supplies. Odds and ends I managed to come across and thought you might have use of," he replied, seeming a bit distracted by looking at her.  
She was clearly in better spirits than last he saw her. She was even wearing a bit of the makeup she usually wore and her words held more... joy, than the last.

"You seem in better spirits than my last visit," he added as an after thought, subtly sniffing the air.

Dandelion sighed, pushing himself from bed. He knelt down and started to carefully clean up the shattered tea set.

Yennefer frowned, sobering herself just a bit. Geralt had come by just to see her. She felt a little nauseous at the thought. 

He fucked off for 5 years and would have stayed gone for longer had she not desperately needed something. Though she was glad he came to her. 

"Let's have a look at what you've brought. Might be able to buy something off of you." She offered, coming down the stairs. 

"Oh, have you heard the news?" She asked, feeling herself straighten her back, putting on an act of grief. 

She supposed this would determine if she allowed Geralt to see Dandelion at some point. Should the man want to see the Witcher.

"You can have the whole thing of it, Yen. Haven't got any use for any of it for myself," he muttered, having collected enough for two, anyway.  
When he had seen Yennefer last, he realized he had... missed her, which he shouldn't, but–

"News? What news?" He asked, interrupting his own train of thought, not particularly liking that look she adopted when she mentioned said 'news'.

Dandelion got the glass shards cleaned up and tied away in a bit of fabric, in case Yen could or would want to fix it. When she still hadn't come back, he sat on the floor in front of the fire place, watching the flames flicker.

Yennefer felt her shoulders slump, a little empathy for the man. "I don't know a nice way to say this, but Geralt... I've gotten word that Jaskier has died." She said softly, looking up at him, biting her lip.

"Found him on the side of the road, looked like he'd been attacked by bandits." She explained, it wasn't a lie. None of it really was. Just a bit of an extended truth, and she truly loved those.

Geralt's eyes widened and he seemed to stumble back a step, as if the wind had been knocked from him.

_Jaskier.  
Not Jaskier..._

"You're... certain it was Jaskier?" He asked, his voice shaking minutely, only someone looking for it to be shaking would be able to tell.

The great bard Jaskier, taken down by bandits of all things... he thought for sure it would be a monster of some sort to take out the bard. Had feared it, and yet–

"...I can't believe– ...Hm. The world will be a much quieter place without him. Darker, too."

Yennefer felt the bitter taste in her mouth. "I didn't see the body no. But he'd been here, not that long ago. He asked about you." She frowned, watching his face. 

She would let him visit eventually. But she wanted to promise Dandelion more of her love before he left her.

He looked down at his boots, a sadness in his amber eyes.  
"...he was human, I know, but some part of me thought that foolish bard would live forever," he murmured, shaking his head. "Thank you Yen, for telling me of this," he added, stepping back towards Roach – gods, how was he going to tell Roach?!  
"I'll see you again, but I should go. I've... a contract in the next town over. Be safe, Yennefer."

Dandelion curled up by the fire, having drug a blanket to himself, and curled up beside its warmth, dozing as he waited for Yennefer to return.

"Geralt...?" She asked, looking at everything he'd brought her. "Thank you... please don't be a stranger." She sighed, hating herself for still loving him. 

"Say hi to your wretched horse for me." She called after him, watching him go. She did feel a little guilty, but Jaskier did deserve Geralt's grief. 

She sighed, going up the stairs and humming, seeing Dandelion curled up by the fire. "Are you planning to laze around all day? Don't you think you've spent enough time laying around?" She teased, offering her hand out to him.

Hearing her voice addressing him, Dandelion smiled and quickly sat up, taking her hand in his own and pulling himself up. He pointed towards the mess of spilled tea on the floor and then to the wrapped cloth that held the tea set pieces.  
He grinned, looking rather proud of himself that he had been the one to clean it up for her while he waited.

He wondered who had come to pay her a visit, if it had been important or just business.  
Whichever it was, it was no business of his, so he didn't even mime asking her of it.

Food and drink and then a bath. If he was lucky, she might join him in the warm water as she had before.

Yennefer hummed, bringing his hand to her lips. "And you didn't even cut yourself." She teased lightly, looking his hand over. "Such delicate fingers... we'll have to see if we can't get you a new lute." She smiled, looking him over, sizing him up. 

"Sorry, you'll have to wear my clothes for now, you're skin and bone, so you'll fit. Just wear a robe over, no one will know." She laughed, finding something for him to wear. Lose and tied at the top, more of sleep wear than clothes, but would help from getting a chill. And showing his ass to all the staff, but whatever.

He couldn't help the warmth in his cheeks as she pressed her lips to his hand, inspected it and praised him.

Slipping into Yennefer's clothes made that warmth in his cheeks burn a bit more as he looked down at himself and then back to her, a sort of accusatory tone to the way he gestured to himself and these clothes, and then to her.

_You're enjoying this far too much, aren't you? And I can't even speak properly to accuse you, to complain._

Skin and bone as he was, he had an oddly feminine figure that made this somehow all the worse.  
He looked GOOD in Yen's clothing, as no man should look good in her clothing.

Yennefer looked him over, humming appreciatively. She could tell he felt the same way, looking down at himself, running his hands down the skirt of it. 

"Lunch then? Think I might be feeling a bit hungry..." she purred, looking him over. She might have to do some convincing to have him in her clothes more often.

Or perhaps his own?

Dandelion raised a brow at her, a quick glance over her before he nodded, his stomach growling as if on cue to state what he couldn't.  
He was hungry, and certainly would not turn down eating with Yennefer, even when she used that tone of hers that confused him.

He moved with a grace he forgot he possessed, his body feeling more his own once again. He didn't feel weak or trapped anymore, but... better. He didn't feel like he was dying inside his own body, and he knew he had his witch to thank.

Yennefer turned to watch him follow her walking with an air no man had any right to possess. She was glad to see him like this, up and moving. Soon he'd be back to himself. With some hefty, healthy meals of course. 

She hummed, letting someone put a meal together for them, dismissing them for the afternoon so she could be alone with Dandelion. 

She still made him drink the medicine tea, but didn't restrict what he could eat, wanting him to fill out again.

He drank the tea with his food, making the bitterness of it seem far less when paired with fruits that were sweet. He ate with Yennefer, surely taking in more food this one sitting with her than he had in all the time since he arrived more than half dead to her door.

He wanted to show her, for her to know without a doubt, that her efforts to help him weren't wasted. He needed her to know that it meant so much to him, so he would drink his awful tea without complaint, would take any other medicinal things she requested him to if it meant she knew he appreciated all her efforts.

He was alive, despite everything, despite the odds, and that was because of her.

Dandelion looked across to her when he had had his fill of food and smiled, his gaze soft.

Yennefer hated the silence, but knew she should enjoy it while she could. She flourished under the soft gaze of his sea blue eyes, wondering if anyone had ever honestly looked at her like that before. 

"Had your fill then?" She asked, finishing up her own food, feeling like she was finally able to stomach anything.

Nodding, he sat back and patted his belly through her soft dress that clung to him.

Communication was more than a bit difficult this way and he severely hoped that Yen was right, that this was temporary and he would be speaking again in no time.

He nodded his head towards her and her food, _had your fill then too?  
How long has it been since you've eaten properly? How long has it been since you've been able to smile like you are?  
I'm so sorry I kept you from these things – smiling, eating, sleeping. I'm so sorry you worried over me so long._

He had so much to say, but no voice to use.

Yennefer nodded, popping one last grape into her mouth before getting up. "Think you could use a bath now." She smiled, standing and grabbing a bowl of the fruits to take up with them. 

"You owe it to me to wash my hair this time." She smiled cheekily, looking at him over her shoulder. 

She felt like she was floating, seeing him like this again. Her ritual had worked almost completely. He looked human again, all the color and starlight back to him. She could barely wait for the abuse he slung when he got his voice back. When she would know he was truly well again.

He huffed and rolled his eyes, following after her with little complaint, eager to wash her hair, though he wouldn't admit to it. He used to wash the Witcher's hair all the time... was even the one to teach the brute that baths could be for enjoyment as well as for purpose.

His eyes had darkened for a brief moment as he thought of that man, but brightened again easily when he looked to Yennefer, seeing her so happy, so bright herself.

_Lilac and gooseberries._

He smiled to himself a bit as he waved her to the bath, sitting on the edge as she had done when she had bathed him what seemed so long ago now.  
That had been a whole different him...

Yennefer smiled up at him, undressing herself and lowering into the tub. She'd been on their adventures, knew he'd bedded plenty of women, but he was still a gentleman, pretending to look away before she stepped into the hot water. 

She sighed, laying back in the water to get her hair wet for him, backing up to the ledge for him to reach her better.

He moved his fingers through her silky hair, humming, though no noise was produced. He was gentle with combing his fingers through her hair, massaging soap and oils into it and throughout, enjoying being able to do this for her.  
He rubbed at her neck, her shoulders, with a lavender oil, humming again, though this time a very quiet version of his hum escaped, though he didn't notice. He was too enraptured by washing his witch's hair.

Yennefer sighed happily into his touch, his hands working muscles she hadn't noticed were sore. She didn't realize how she'd been neglecting herself until she finally felt soft hands on her skin. 

Eventually she rested her cheek on his knee, looking up to him as he worked her shoulders, not much caring how he looked at her. She let her eyes shut, relaxing. "You're good to me, Dandelion..." she whispered.

He felt his cheeks warm as he continues to work out knots in her shoulders, feeling her relaxing slowly under his hands. She was beautiful like this, not that she wasn't beautiful in literally every other aspect of life, but here, she was the most relaxed he had ever seen her. Even before all this mess, before the mountain – this was the most relaxed she had ever looked and it was because of him.

He hummed again, hearing it for himself this time but not making a big deal out of it. He hummed the song he was working on for her as he combed his fingers through her hair again.

Yennefer looked up at him, eyes half lidded and dark. "Are you coming in?" She asked, scooting forward, her back toward him, waiting to learn against him again. 

She waited, her knees tucked to her chest, playing with a petal in the water.

Blinking, he stood and slipped out of the soft garment he was borrowing before slipping into the water behind her. He pressed his nose into her hair, breathing her in – lavender and mint added to her usual scents now.

He was cautious to touch, but his hands went easily to her shoulders, massaging there as he had been, but now his own aches were relaxing in the warmth of the water.

Her body shivered, realizing he was facing her still, having expected to sit back to back again. 

He felt his hands on her shoulders, the new angle allowing him to reach different aches in the muscles. She felt like she'd turn to jelly in his delicate, but skilled hands.

He could practically feel her melt beneath his hands that worked her shoulders free of tension, her neck. When he was fully satisfied, he carefully wrapped his arms around her middle and rested his head against her back.

"Yen," he breathed, surprised when sound escaped him, quiet and rough, his throat feeling scratchy.

A grin stretched across her face at the sound of her name. "Told you it would be temporary..." she hummed enjoying the feeling of his head between her shoulders, arms around her stomach.

It wasn't fair. She wanted to keep him here, safe and warm where he'd always have food and a soft bed, someone who cared for him. 

She didn't need him, and he didn't really need her, but gods she wanted. Wanted him to hold her like this, wanted to hold him while he slept. Wanted everything and anything he would give her. And she would take it all, greedy thing she was.

He hummed, the rumble of it in his throat as he gently squeezed her in a sort of hug.  
"A good thing, too," he breathed, the strain on his throat a bit much for the moment, but at least sound was coming out again, he could speak and she could hear him.

"Difficult to... tell you off without a working voice," he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips as he nuzzled against her back. "Difficult to thank you, too," he added, the smirk softening.

"Shut up, Dandelion." She hummed happily, smiling softly and resting her head on her knees. "Don't work yourself too hard. You're still recovering." She reminded him, more of a scold than anything, but there was no edge to her voice. 

"You can bitch me out once you've gotten your strength back."

He just smiled and nodded against her back, his throat feeling too sore to bitch at her anyway.  
Idly, his fingers drew shapes against her stomach, his eyes closed as he relaxed in the warm water, just happy to have even the bit of strength he had.

She was the one far too good to him.

She sighed happily, feeling him tracing shapes into her skin, making her feel like she was far too delicate for the way men had touched her before. This was the treatment she felt she deserved. 

And he was so good, not once did his hands dip lower, he didn't push himself against her, forcing her to feel him against her. He was soft, and perfect, and everything she wanted. 

_Please don't take him away._

She'd do everything she could to keep him here with her. She promised herself that. He was still a far way off from healing, but he was leaps and bounds from where he'd started.

He drifted easily in the warmth of the water, his head resting against her. The shape tracing slowed until it stopped, his hands simply resting against her stomach again.

He never would have fallen asleep like this before, but he was still recovering, and he knew that, so he had to be gentle and patient with himself, otherwise he was sure to go mad by the number of times he was sure to fall asleep where or how he would not have before.

Some distant part of himself was scared that after he was good and healed, Yennefer would send him away again, despite how close they had become, so he wanted to take every opportunity and savor it, even in a state of rest.

Yennefer felt him slip, heard a soft snore escape his mouth, startling him awake. "Am I that boring to you?" She teased, turning in his arms, standing up and offering her hands down to him. 

"Little more rest won't hurt you at all."

Dandelion's cheeks burned, not only because he had drifted to sleep against Yennefer in the bath, but because she had made a point to turn towards him before getting up from the water.  
He took her hands quickly and pulled himself up, rubbing at his eyes.

"Not boring, Yen. Just so warm and comfortable," he breathed, feeling like some common fool, being unable to speak as lavishly and extravagantly as he would usually do so. Use far too many pretty words where a few would do. It just wasn't him, so limiting himself and speaking that way felt... wrong.

The days went by pretty uneventful, spending them in bed, cuddling tight to each other, holding on in the fear that the other would let go. She fed him, glad to see him eating more and more, color to his skin, cheeks filling out, his ribs becoming less and less visible, but it was still far too slow going for Yennefer's thin patience.

Though she still watched as the light filled his eyes, laughter filling her ears, hands always searching for hers to hold. 

It was early morning when she'd slipped out of bed, getting dressed and deciding to go to town without him. She had a meeting with a man she'd been looking forward to, someone claiming to have an elven lute that they'd been sold. 

When she got it, she was a little disappointed that it wasn't the one Jaskier had owned, but the little flowers carved into it made her love it far more than if it had been the original. 

It was a simple and obvious surprise, but it would be warmly welcomed, putting life into her own little flower once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a poem/song I wrote specifically for this story, so... enjoy!!
> 
> If you're here from tumblr, then you may have read this one already as I posted the song there, first

Dandelion woke before his witch returned, his brow furrowed a bit in his sleepy state when her side of the bed was empty and rather cold.

"Yen...?" He called, rubbing at his eyes as he climbed from bed, moving to the bath to see if she was there, to the kitchen, but nothing.

Her things were all still here, clothes and magical items, so she hadn't up and left him alone, surely, just because he was better. She wouldn't do that, she wasn't like– ...she wasn't like the Witcher.

It was a few hours of pacing and worrying before he heard the door downstairs open and he quickly moved to the stairs. "Yennefer!" He exclaimed, the tension in his body finally easing when he saw her there, coming home, to him.  
"I woke up alone and I wasn't sure where you could have gone. Checked all over inside, and– ...Yen? What...what have you got there?" He asked, noticing the way she had quickly hid something behind her back when she heard him on the stairs.

Yennefer shot him a knowing, mischievous smile. "Why don't you come find out?" She called playfully, looking up at him, sunlight hugging him, showing him through the thin fabric of his night gown. 

"Oh! I got you some clothes, since you're going to start stretching mine out any day now. You're still small enough, these pants belonged to a little girl, might be a bit big on you." She teased, moving to set her bags down on the table.

He sounded far better today, his voice sturdy and clear.

With a huff and a roll of his eyes, he moved down to where she set the bags on the table.  
"I look beautiful in your clothes and you know it, Yen. I've seen the way you catch glances," he hummed, raising a brow a bit. If she was allowed to tease and poke fun, then surely he could as well.

"These are really lovely, though, despite the jab that came with them," he grinned, looking through the clothes, unconvinced that this had been all she was hiding. "These weren't what you hid behind your back from me, though. What have you gone and done, Yennefer?"

He felt an excitement in his chest, because it obviously couldn't be something bad, not with how she smiled like that and her beautiful violet eyes glittered in the light dancing through the window.

"Promise me you'll be happy." Yennefer smiled, looking him over. He was right, she did find him beautiful in her dresses. It was why she'd bought more in colors and sizes better suited to him. 

She pulled the case out from behind her back, a square thing, not quite as nice as his old case, but the instrument was of good quality. She held her breath, grinning at him as he took it in his hands.

"Oh Yen...oh you didn't–" his eyes watered as he held the case in his hands, moving to set it to the table and open it.  
He gasped, his hands to his mouth as he looked on the beautiful thing, etched with little flowers and vines connecting them.  
It wasn't Filavandrel's lute, but good gods it was a beautiful instrument all the same.

"Yennefer! It's– you–" Tears slipped down his cheeks as he smiled at the instrument, lifting it delicately from the case and giving it a good strum.  
"It needs some love and some turning, but Yen, this is gorgeous..." he looked to her, wiping at his eyes.  
Some semblance of normalcy.  
"Thank you, Yennefer... I love it so much. I love it," he breathed, brushing his fingertips over the beautiful thing, excited to tune it and work on the song he currently only had in his head.

"Go on then, I'll lose your attentions for the afternoon, but music in the evening will be worth it." She smiled at him knowingly. "No singing though, you've only just gotten your voice back. And take some breakfast with you." She said sternly, looking him over with soft eyes.

He groaned but would not outwardly complain further, and would most certainly abide by her concerns.  
He stepped to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek.  
"Thank you, Yen, really," he hummed softly, grabbing some breakfast and hurrying off to go work out the tuning of the beautiful lute and the beginning of the song he would play as soon as he was able.  
He couldn't wait to know what she thought of it...

Yennifer sat in her visitor area, working on some requests she'd received. Healing potions, sex 'magic', something to keep the bugs off a prized tomato plant, just tedious and basic work. She stopped, leaning back when she heard the sounds of soft music find its way down to her. 

It wasn't the elf king's lute, but with some love, and in Dandelion's hands, it would soon be just as sweet. She decided it was time for a break, following the music to him. 

He sat close to the fire, his bones still too exposed to keep any heat in him. She kept quiet when he didn't realize her standing there. 

He stuck the tip of his tongue out, eyebrows pulled together in deep concentration. Everytime she saw him, he was far more beautiful than the last.

He played softly, humming as he did to push himself along with what he played. There was a certain sound he was looking for, a certain tune and he had this determination in him to find it and play it well.  
He had played the new song over twice and was working on his third by the time he spotted Yennefer watching him. He felt his cheeks warm, his gaze catching hers.

"...how long have you been there watching me, Yen?" He asked quietly, chewing his lip as he lowered the lute, tuned well to his song now, ready for when he was ready, for when Yennefer was ready to let him play and perform.

He made odd faces while he worked out the kinks in a new song, and he knew he did, but now, too, Yennefer knew, surely. His beautiful witch.

"Long enough to see you make an ass of yourself." Yennefer teased lightly, leaning against the door frame. 

"Take a break. Come have dinner with me." She hummed, offering her hands out to him, swaying her hips playfully.

"I did no such thing!" He huffed, setting the beautiful instrument aside in the case he had open for it.  
"But, all the same, how can I say no to an invite to dinner?" He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet to take her hands in his. "You were right, you know. I did find my words, and they hurt, but... I think I've a good one. A good start, anyway. I can't wait to _really_ play it for you, Yen."

"I'm looking forward to it." She hummed, taking his hands holding to him tightly. "You're so beautiful when you play, you look so... focused." She hummed, letting her hand cup his face. 

"I've never seen a man so honestly... intent before." She smiled up to him, turning away and leading him down to the kitchen to eat. "I want you to rest a bit more before you sing."

His cheeks remained warm as he followed her down to the kitchen, the ghost of her fingers against his skin still there making him smile to himself, her words lingering on his ears.

"I forget myself when I'm working out a new piece. If I don't, it's difficult to push past everything and just hear the music and the sound I'm trying to achieve," he replied, moving to pull her chair out for her, an instinct that he could use, now his body was quicker once again.

"And I know, you want me to make sure I don't strain, or push myself too far when I've only just gained it back," a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You couldn't stand another extended period of time where I could not speak. My silence bothers you near as much as it bothers me, doesn't it?"

"It's unnatural." Yennefer agreed, taking her seat. Any other man and she would have fought him, made a crack about what a gentleman he was. 

Dandelion really was. How many times had she been in vulnerable situations with him? Where he didn't try to make a pass, when his eyes didn't linger too long. When he was so terribly gentle with her. 

Why didn't she see this before? How could she think that Geralt was worth missing out on this?

Dandelion nodded, agreeing with her as he rounded to take his own seat. "The world is far too used to my voice and how it rarely ever stops," he hummed softly, tilting his head as he looked at her, the way she was looking at him like he was something truly special.

"What is it, Yen? Why are you looking at me that way?" He asked, his voice soft as he reached across the table, palm up for her.

Yennefer slipped her hand in his, looking at him so soft. "You're so terribly stupid, aren't you? Lucky the gods made you pretty, yeah?" She teased him, still watching him across the table.

He had the decency at the very least to look offended, though his lips tugged upwards into a little smile.  
"I– I am no such thing! The stupid part; I'm not so vain as to deny the luck the gods gave me by making me pretty," he teased, his blue eyes sparkling as he squeezed her hand.  
"I'll have you know I went to Oxenfurt and know many a language rather fluently. I'm _book_ smart," he laughed, the sound like a bell. "Doesn't do much good in this world though, or in the sort of travel I get myself into. Perhaps you're right, then, in calling me stupid... You won't tell me, though? Why you're looking to me as though I've hung the stars just for you?"

He tilted his head again, curls falling in his face. "Had I that power, Yennefer of Vengerberg, I would do that. Hang the stars just for you, so they shine for you."

Yennefer looked at him, so terribly in love with this idiot and he had no idea. A true moron, through and through. 

She sighed, an honest to gods, disgusting sigh. What was she, a lovesick teenager? 

"Dandelion, sweet dear, I do hope you never change." She teased, resting her foot on top of his. "Well, maybe a little bit. You could use some fashion sense, maybe learn to flirt a little better."

He felt warmth in his cheeks as he bounced her foot on his, his blue eyes sparkling excitedly.  
"Well, if I'm to gain any sort of fashion sense, I'll first have to find someone with said sense to teach me," he teased, starting to eat his food. "I've been wearing nothing but your clothes, so I can only assume you're saying that you yourself have no fashion sense," he added, clarifying as his smile turned more to a smirk.

She was still looking at him with that softness in her gaze, something he couldn't discern or decipher.

"Oh you insufferable cow!" She barked a laugh, her cheeks hurt from grinning. 

"Perhaps I should just let you go naked then?" She teased, sliding her foot up the back of his calf.

A soft gasp pulled from him and his eyes sparkled with mischief, a brow raised.  
"You'd enjoy that far too much, I think," he hummed, touching his stomach. "You'll tease me again, since I've got more meat in my bones – entirely your fault this time around and certainly not at all my own doing."

Yennefer rested her elbow on the table, placing her chin in her hand. "You're not big enough to satisfy me yet." She purred, thrilled by that glimmer in his eye. 

She dared to move her foot a little higher, pushing his skirt up a bit, teasing at soft skin, just above his knee. She lingered there a moment before sliding her foot back down, resting against his ankle. 

"You are looking much better though."

The tease of her soft toes against his thigh, beneath the skirt he currently wore was... well, a tease, obviously. It made him shudder and bite his lower lip. His body was healing enough that he could feel a bit of pleasure, embarrassing as that was.

"Feeling it, too. Better, I mean. Feeling better. I am feeling better."

Melitele's tits – he was certainly feeling stupidly easily flustered under that unwavering violet gaze.

Yennifer bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement, glad to see he was getting better. It would still he a while before she could tease him properly, but it was progress. 

"Finish your dinner before it gets cold." She hummed, pointing to his plate and turning her attention back to her own. She couldn't help the fluttering in her stomach, eager to know Dandelion's infatuation wasn't solely physical, but that it could be an option. 

In fact, she was sure since she wore this body, most interest of her had been based on that. Dandelion was such an odd man.

He huffed softly, averting his gaze to his plate as he carried on eating, drinking some of that bitter tea with his dinner. The tea really wasn't so bad anymore, if he was honest. He'd had worse things in his body, that was for certain.

Finished, he sat back and sighed, letting his eyes close. "I know you're trying to get me back to the weight I had been, but I think you're going about it a little quickly," he grumbled softly, resting a hand on his stomach, aching from how full he felt.  
His appetite had been one of the first things to return in full force, and he was certain the witch had been pleased with that.

"I'm not the one who told you to stuff yourself." Yennefer teased, looking up, still finishing her own food. "And you don't have to eat so quick. I won't take it away from you." She hummed, enjoying the way he rested in the chair, rubbing his belly. 

She hummed, pushing her finished plate to the side. "If you'd like, you can go back up to your lute. I'll only be a little jealous." She let out a quiet laugh, watching his eyes light up at the offer.

"To help you feel, at least a deal less jealous – the song I'm working on is very much for you, my dear," he hummed, winking at her as he pushed himself to standing.

"I'm rather excited to be able to play it for you, sing it properly... you deserve the world, Yennefer, but I regret to say the world is not mine to give to you, so I will give to you what _is_ him.

Yennefer blinked a few times, feeling her eyelashes get heavy with tears. How could she have once hated his guts?   
How could she have wasted her time and heartbreak on Geralt when here he was, and there he had been the entire time?

"Whatever you want." She agreed, her throat feeling too tight, full of something she couldn't put words to.

Dandelion smiled gently, rounding the table to lean over her and press a soft kiss into her hair.

Lilac and gooseberries.  
It never failed.

"Suppose I'm allowed to get excited, now. Excited, and definitely not nervous at all because I am a professional," he snickered lightly, brushing a strand of her long hair behind her ear.  
"I'm going to go practice it again, now. Nail down the last part of it before I'm allowed to sing."

She looked up at him, big purple eyes feeling lost and confused. About her? Why?

The kiss to her hair was almost too much, she almost caught herself wondering what his angle was. Watching him go back up the stairs, she realized he didn't have one. Couldn't. 

How could a man be that soft? There was no violence to him, no secondary intentions, no manipulation or desire to use her for her power. What was wrong with him? 

She felt that flash of anger again that Geralt could have hurt him. Could have traveled with Jaskier so long and not even realized how the man felt. And if he had, maybe he truly was the monster everyone seemed to think.   
Didn't matter. She had her claws in him now and she wouldn't be letting go any time soon.

Sitting near the fire again, he picked the gifted lute from its case and started to play again, the song he was working on and wanted to make sure it would go well. No mishaps, no loose tuning pegs or popped strings.  
He wanted to show Yennefer what she meant to him, and he was only good at expressing his feelings in words, music.

...it hadn't worked well the rest of his life, but he was hoping that she was less of an emotionally constipated idiot than the Witcher. He was banking on it, even.

The days passed and Dandelion continued to get better, his voice coming back to him in full with no troubles, and he was continuing to take meat onto his bones.  
Occasionally, he found himself breaking down, feeling a phantom pain in his chest, in his stomach, an itchiness to his skin, but Yennefer insisted it was just the residual withdrawal feelings.

It was during a bath, a week or so passed, while Dandelion was washing Yen's hair that he decided to ask.

"Will you go to the tavern with me tonight, Yen?"

Yennefer blinked and turned to him, a little nervous about Dandelion being around alcohol and people. But she'd agreed to let him play. She couldn't go back on that.

"Alright." She agreed, smiling at him softly. "It'll be good to get out of the house." She hummed, relaxing back into his touch. 

He'd gotten so much stronger, bigger, happier. Now and then he'd get jittery, uncomfortable, he'd search her out and just want to have her hold him a while. She'd grown to love him. She knew that he liked to be little spoon at night, how he liked his hair brushed and how he took his tea. She loved the look he'd give her when he caught her trying to eavesdrop on his song writing.

"Do you want me to cut your hair? And we'll have to see if one of the boys will let you borrow some pants." She offered, starting to look forward to going out again.

"But you like my hair long, and it isn't so much a bother anymore. Maybe you could... tie it up for me?" He asked hopefully, one step at a time in regards to her words.

He had grown so accustomed to his hair being this way, her running her fingers through it while they curled together, the soothing action helping him to fall asleep. He'd even become rather fond of wearing the dresses and skirts she had gotten for him – they were actually rather comfortable. Breezy, though, and his body still wasn't regulating his temperature as well as it probably should be doing.

...or maybe that was because of the skirts?

Either way, he wasn't overly ready to let all of those new comforts go. He liked who he was now, who he was with her, for her, and with her help.

"I haven't worn pants in what feels like a lifetime...."

She laughed, turning in the water to rest her head on his shoulder. "I'm selfish. You look far too beautiful in those thin dresses for me to want to put you in anything else." She teased him. Part of it was that she hoped he wouldn't leave when that's all he had to wear. 

"You can do whatever you'd like." She agreed, looking up to him, soft smile on her face. 

"We can get all dressed up and go out, have a little fun tonight." She hummed happily, knowing it had to be getting stuffy in the house for him.

"Perhaps just this once I'll wear some pants, then, but I vehemently oppose cutting my hair when it can simply be tied back some way," his eyes glittered in his excitement.

Finally, finally he was ready to sing to her, declare this song in front of others so they knew, too.  
Though, surely the people here knew already the sort of thing he might say...

He wrapped his arms around her middle and gave her a gentle squeeze, grinning.

"I'm really excited, Yen... you won't have to try sneaking in and hearing me practice anymore because I'm going to sing you the song I've made for you. Tonight!"

Yennefer pushed a soft kiss to his nose. "Well, let's get out and get moving then. I at least want to look nice." She teased, moving to stand, climbing out of the tub to hand him a towel. 

"You can wear whatever you'd like Dandelion, this is your night." She hummed, eyeing his damp hair.

"I thought I didn't have a sense of fashion? How am I possibly meant to dress myself properly for such a performance when I'm accused of not have a fashion sense?" He grinned up at her, blue gaze meeting violet, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"Might be a bit too bold to go with any of my usual attire... so perhaps pants are best?"

"Pants it is then." She hummed, wrapping him up in the towel. "We can get you some other clothes of your own." She offered, leading him back to the room, sitting him in front of the fireplace to dry his hair faster.

Dandelion sat up straight, the fire-light dancing in his eyes. Despite the smile on his face, he was anxious. He had no idea how she would react to his song, or how any of the people would take to it either. It wasn't a quick thing like Toss a Coin or Fishmonger's Daughter... it had heart – his, to be precise.

He was quiet as he sat there by the fire with her, his hair drying.

"...if I'm wearing pants I'll have to find some shirt to wear, too," he murmured absently, mostly to himself as he leaned back against her.

"I have shirts. You can wear one of mine." Yennefer offered, seeing that anxiety in his eyes. "What will you do if you're recognized? Will you still play his songs?" She asked curiously, towel wrapped lightly around her. 

She'd be a little jealous, but she knew they were popular. People requested his songs in every half decent tavern across the continent.

"No," he replied firmly, a determined, almost angry set to his jaw as he ran fingers through his own hair. "Those songs can be sung by any bard, in any tavern. The people even know the words, so they could sing those songs themselves," he huffed, digging his fingers into his scalp a moment.

He hadn't even considered that he might be recognized... His hair was so long now, he didn't dress as he used to and he certainly didn't have the lute he used to play.

It was fine.  
The song was clear, he had worked so hard on it, for her.

Yennefer had to turn away to hide her smug smile. "He's a fool, you know. Anyone should be lucky to have you." She said simply, turning to start putting her makeup on.

She would look nice for him tonight. It didn't matter if he was playing a small tavern or a large one, she'd do anything to make him feel special. Especially now. Especially since this was for her. 

"Is your hair almost dry?" She asked, painting her eyes with a soft, golden color instead of her usual dark green.

Releasing the tension in his fingers, he carded his hand through his hair, nodding. "Nearly dry now, yeah," he murmured, leaning back to look up at her, a smile tugging at his cheeks.

"Gold, and not green?" He asked softly, his heart doing that odd fluttering thing that it did quite often in regards to Yennefer of Vengerberg. "I've never seen you wearing gold before... it's really lovely."

"Thought I might like to try something new tonight. Can't have you being the pretty one in the room." She turned away from him, finishing up her eyes before moving to paint her lips. 

Once she was satisfied, she turned to Dandelion. "Ready for me to do your hair? How would you like it?" She asked, spreading her legs a bit to make room for him to sit between her feet.

He scooted back against her eagerly, shrugging. "Surprise me. I'm not really sure of many ways to put hair up besides braids," he hummed, feeling her warmth, even from the space they had between them.

...or perhaps that was the fire.  
Very possibly it was the fire.

Yennefer hummed as she brushed through his hair. She hadn't realized, but the tune of the song she'd heard him practicing was already stuck in her head. She put oils and soft cream in his hair, leaving him smelling fantastic. 

She pulled it up, taking pins out of the pot on her vanity, pinning his hair up, looking soft and almost ethereal. As if he was the one of elven decent. 

"Want to have a look?" She asked softly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Dandelion smiled, his cheeks warm as he nodded. "Not that I don't trust you of course, because merciful gods Yennefer, I trust you with all that I am," he hummed, leaning against her and nuzzling against her neck.

He let her maneuver him towards the mirror, looking into it with widening eyes, his cheeks burning.  
"...Yen... you made me look beautiful..." he breathed quietly, his eyes watering.

"I think you did that one by yourself." Yennefer smiled, glad to see how happy he looked. 

She hummed, taking his hand and pushing a kiss to it.

They finished getting ready, Dandelion wearing dark pants paired with one of Yennefer's flowy and beautiful shirts. He had his lute slung over his back as he danced around anxiously, waiting for Yennefer to be ready to go.

They walked to the tavern together, arm in arm, the bard practically thrumming with his nervous energy.

"I can do this," he breathed, giving his witch's arm a squeeze as they paused outside of the tavern, the raucous noise from within bleeding out into the street.  
He could smell the food, the ale–  
He wiggled his fingers at his side, shaking his head.  
No ale.  
Don't even think about it.  
Just ignore it and everything will be just fine.  
Focus on her. Focus on Yennefer.

Yennefer smiled, pushing a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving a faint outline of her lips. "You can do this. And you'll do it well." She whispered, leading him in. 

She was a little nervous to have him here. It seemed a bit busy. She was afraid they'd request some of his old songs of adventure. Afraid someone would offer him a drink. Afraid someone would get his attentions better than she did. 

She found an empty seat near the door by the bar, sitting herself down. The tavern owner had agreed to some music if Dandelion had wanted to play. Always more coin to be made when there was good spirits. Especially when the bard could attract men and women.

Dandelion set himself up and pulled the lute around to his front, strumming a few notes experimentally to draw the attentions of the crowd.

Hearing the notes, the tavern fell quiet, and his nerves made him tremble slightly, but he looked to Yennefer, her beautiful face a beacon in the haze of the crowd.

Smiling, he jumped right in, playing a few common songs that he still remembered well, he got a good part of the tavern singing along with him when he played Fishmonger's daughter – a particular favorite of his.

When his crowd was well and enthralled with him, he tempered down, fluttering his fingers over his instrument as he started his new song. His eyes softened as he looked to his witch, over near to the bar.

_"Once a jester in every court  
musician for the kings  
the humble bard was happy  
with all the dangerous things_

_from riding with the Witcher  
to facing down a Djinn  
werewolves, strigas, Drowners  
not one could do him in_

_then fateful mountaintop  
an offer of escape  
the humble bard was happy  
'til the Witcher spoke his name_

_'bard' said he 'you're trouble  
you bring it e'rywhere you go  
more trouble than even a Witcher like me  
can stand to handle on his own'_

_that treacherous mountaintop  
the words of truth cut deep  
the humble bard was happy  
but his heart did not know peace_

_the humble bard no more  
only a flower beneath his feet  
sometimes the best a flower is  
is for sacrifice or tea_

_Dandelion is my name  
a pest that no one called for  
but here I am and here I'll stay  
until my time is over_

_Dandelion is my name  
a flower yes it's true  
but there's a strength in me   
that no one's seen  
Except Her who's seen me through_

_Her eyes of purest amethyst  
her heart a mystery  
I sing this song of thanks to her  
smelling lilacs and gooseberries_

_I sing this song of love to her  
so that she might truly see  
Dandelion is my name  
and her flower I will be~"_

Yennefer listened to him body shaking as he sang. It was haunting, painful, and so much for her. It was too much, overwhelming. She hadn't realized that he felt that way for her, not that deeply anyway. 

Before she knew her feet were moving her, on her way home. It was overwhelming, far, far too much. She didn't deserve love like that. And yet, here he was anyway. 

She was home in bed, clinging to her knees tightly, sobbing into the sheets. It would hurt so bad when he left.

His song finished, the tavern silent, Dandelion felt his heart aching as he quickly packed up his things.  
He barely registered the cheers, the compliments, the offers of drinks.  
Yennefer had walked out, had left him there.

Some bitter, angry part of him wanted to take these kind folks up on their offers of drink, the good stuff even, they said. He would fall back down that dark hole that she had dug him out of, he would curl up in it, warm and cozy.

...but he couldn't.  
He couldn't let her run away without knowing–

So he smiled and apologized, bowing himself out of the tavern before dashing off towards home. He nearly toppled over one of the servants of the house as he threw open the door.  
"Where is she?" He asked, moving to the room when the young man pointed him that direction.

He froze in the doorway, seeing her curled up there on the bed they shared, her knees to her chest, the most distressing sobbing sounds leaving her.  
He crossed the room swiftly, setting his lute down before slipping to his knees at the side of the bed.

"Yen... I'm sorry, please don't cry... I won't sing it again if you don't want, I just..." his heart ached a bit, the broken pieces she had mended seeming to want to break apart again.  
He'd worked so hard on her song and...it hurt her?

Yennefer couldn't form any words for a minute, angry that he would even think about never singing that song again. But she had been the one to leave, her feet under her before she'd even realized what she was doing. 

"You can't be that stupid. You really can't be." She sniffed, grabbing for his hands, pulling one to her cheek, just breathing in the scent of his skin.

She hadn't realized how much pain she'd been holding on to all these years. It had grown roots and now exposed her, battered and raw and new.

"You... would be surprised. I evidently am very much stupid because I... don't understand," he breathed, tilting his head, trying to look at her, to meet her gaze.  
When he couldn't catch it, he moved his free hand to gently brush tears from her cheeks.

"Yennefer... did it upset you? Did I?" He asked, trying to piece together what could have sent her running off. "Because... because that wasn't the intention at all, I hope you understand. I... you've done so much for me, so much that I can never possibly repay you for but... but somewhere in all of this healing and closeness, that closeness became something else and..."

His voice trailed off, shrugging lamely.

Yennefer let out another weak sob, hating that look in his eyes. "You're so fucking stupid." She breathed, a small, shy smile finding it's way to her face. "Gods, how could I possibly love the biggest idiot bastard this side of the country." She breathed, leaning into his touch. 

"I don't deserve you Dandelion. You're far too good to me." She whispered, the ache in her chest subsiding, turning to something warm and fluttering.

"No need to rub it in! I thought we already talked about that I– w–wait... what did you say?" He asked, his cheeks going a nice pink in color.

_How could I possibly love the biggest idiot bastard this side of the country._

His eyes were wide as he looked up at her from where he was still kneeling beside the bed, at a loss for what to say.

So, instead of words, he cautiously moved towards her, the hand that had been brushing tears away cupped her cheek as he leaned in to press a careful kiss to her painted lips.

Yennefer sighed, tears rolling down her cheeks, a whimper slipping from her throat, letting her hands rest on his chest. 

She relaxed into the touch, leaning into him. A soft smile on her face, resting their foreheads together.

"I love you, too, Yennefer," he breathed, bumping his nose to hers. "That's what I was trying to convey with that song," he added, smiling sheepishly, still stupidly under the impression that she didn't like the song.

He brushed her tears away, gently rubbing her cheek with his thumb.  
Her skin was so incredibly soft, and he had never seen her like this.

"I found my words again, thanks to you. And, some of the words hurt, but I had to say them to get through them so that I could find the words for this. This feeling I have in my chest everytime I'm near you.. and they're my words."

Yennefer felt another sob rip through her again. She clung to him, pushing another soft kiss to his lips. "Stop looking at me like that, of course I love your song." She breathed, letting her hands cup his cheeks. 

"Dandelion... I really don't deserve you..." she breathed, relaxing into his touch.

"With all due respect, Yen, shut the hell up," he breathed, smiling at her with that look that said he would hang the stars for her, would give her the world if he could.

"You may believe as you wish of what you deserve, just as I may believe as I wish of what I deserve, but from each other's standards we are both wrong. And, if we are both wrong, then surely for that very reason we deserve each other. Or, rather, for that we hold love in ourselves for one another is the reason for deserving one another."

"Shut up, you're making my head hurt. You always talk too much." She laughed, pulling him into another soft kiss, pulling him onto the bed so he could hold her. 

"I'm sorry I ruined your show..." she whispered sadly. "I didn't meant to run away it was just... so much."

"You didn't ruin it, Yen. I was planning to end on your song anyway, but when I saw you run out–" he clenched his jaw, burrowing himself against her, wondering if he should tell her...

"Yen, I almost took people up on their offer of alcohol when you ran out like that. Ale, temerian vodka, the works. Some part of me was so upset that I wanted to drink and forget about everything..." he admitted, resting his forehead against her shoulder.  
"I didn't, though. Obviously... I came after you because I was worried. I needed to know you were okay–sorry, I'm probably talking too much again..."

"You are." Yennefer agreed, a soft smile on her face, reaching up and taking the pins out of his hair. She ran her fingers through it, soft and still smelling so sweet.

"Thank you, Dandelion... thank you for loving me..." she whispered, holding him tightly. "Not what I am or what I can do... just me."

"Yen, you don't have to thank me for my feelings," he smiled softly, shaking his head as he curled close to him, loving the feel of her arms holding him close.

They had been laying like this, snuggling like this, since he had been here, but there was just something different about it now. Different, since there were... _feelings_ involved now, out in the open.

Yennifer buried her face in his chest, angry at how soft he'd made her. "But you're so different from the men who've claimed they love me before." She groaned into his chest. 

"So fucking different, and I don't know what to do with that." She sighed, realizing love had made her feel used and cheap before. A means to an end as most women were in the eyes of men.   
But not him. What could he possibly get out of this? She kept him alive against his will. She knew his words had to be true. And for once she realized that sometimes words held more power than action.

"You don't have to do anything different from what you've already been doing, Yen," he hummed, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear as he cupped her cheek, pulling away slightly so he could look at her.

"My expressing my feelings for you doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to. I love the time we share already – our baths, laying together, the meals we take together... all of that has only made my love for you more obvious to me, anyway," he smiled, nuzzling his nose to hers.

She was different than anyone he had ever been with, too, though he'd never really expressed love to anyone before. He'd bedded people, obviously, but wasn't _in love_ with those people. It was mere attraction and fun.  
With Yennefer, things were different. He didn't want to just bed her and be done with it. He wanted to keep going as they were, spending these beautiful little moments together.

Yennefer gripped him tighter. He was letting her be in control of all this.   
She knew he was amorous, that he took lovers, didn't matter who they were, but this was so different. He was telling her she didn't have to if she didn't want to. 

A small laugh at the fact that he probably couldn't right now, not while he was still healing, but she realized she didn't really want to either, which shocked her too. 

"It's already so very different, just from you putting your feelings out in the world." She sighed, a heavy, wet sound. "Dandelion, you wrote a song for me you fool, how did you think that wouldn't change things!?" She felt a little annoyed, putting on a show of it, gently hitting him on the chest. "You moron! People are going to start thinking nice things about me!"

"You deserve people to look at you with respect, more than fear, Yen. The fear will still be there because you are a fearsome woman, a powerful witch. But... that's all people have seen you for. Your power, your womanhood," he shook his head. "I know, because you've told me of it. Of your time serving the courts," he bit his lower lip, searching her face with that sheepish smile on his lips.

Things had changed, he supposed, but not drastically, not yet. They were still an odd pair as they had been, still comfortable together, more so than they would be apart anymore.  
It was just... a bit more real now, he supposed, and perhaps that frightened her, worried her, as it did him just slightly.

She wasn't like the Witcher.  
She wasn't cruelly indifferent to his feelings.  
She shared them at least in some small part, otherwise she wouldn't have worked so hard to keep him alive. She wouldn't still have him here with her as he was nearly fully healed, despite the long journey ahead of fighting against falling back into that hole.

"You deserve to have their respect and admiration. If it goes anything beyond that however, unless you are willing, I may very well have to step between the proceedings."

"You are required to write one song about how terrible I am and I might forgive you for this one." Yennifer laughed, soft and weak. Her tears stopped for now, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heart pounding in his chest.

She pushed away from him just enough to sit back and look at him. Look at how his eyes filled with something so bright, so pure, as he took her in. Disgusting. 

She wanted so much more of it. 

"I'm a greedy woman, you know. I won't share you. And I won't forgive you if you hurt me. I've put life into your body and I will take it back if you do." She threatened, trying to comfort herself more than anything.

Her threatening words only brightened the look in his eyes, the smile on his lips.  
"As would be your right to do so, were I to hurt you," he hummed, reaching to her and taking a hand in his, squeezing gently. "But I won't. I won't hurt you, Yen. I swear it. I've known hurt like that, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I'm sure you've known hurt enough as well," he added softly, tilting his head a bit, curls falling over half his face.

"I've never loved like this, and had the feeling shared even in part – you won't have to share. Be as greedy as you like."

She held out her hands to him, just wanting to lay with him. To hold him close and feel his warmth. "Come lay down." She whispered, pulling him forward when he took her hands.

Words weren't her forte, she could cut with them, but that wasn't what she wanted now. Not ever with him.

With a soft hum, Dandelion lay with her, curling closely against her, stealing her warmth.  
He didn't mind the silences with Yennefer, because her silences spoke volumes to him.

It didn't take long for him to settle, his heart calming and his breaths evening out. Sleep came easily when he was safely in his witch's arms.

She listed to him fall asleep so quickly, pulling the covers over them. She rested her head on his chest, a habit she'd grown into when he was sick. Praying his heart would keep beating. 

Now he thumped, still a little weak for her liking, in his chest. There was no wheezing as he breathed and his skin was so impossibly warm. He was full of a life and passion she was sure she'd never fully understand. But with his attention focused on her how could she argue? 

He'd get better, a full recovery soon. He'd struggle with his needs, already having shook and craved drinks. His body looking to numb the last little bits of his bruised soul. She'd mend that too. It would take far more time, but she'd help ease all his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Geralt comes back for a visit! Oh no!  
> How is our little Dandelion going to handle THAT bombshell?


	4. Chapter 4

As the days passed, Dandelion found himself feeling back to his old self. He still had his troubles, the jitters and the cravings, but when he had them, Yennefer made him tea instead.  
They spent their nights wrapped in each others arms, curled together under the blankets. Their days, Yennefer spent doing some work, while Dandelion practiced his music, writing a few more news songs, including the one Yennefer had requested, making her out to be less soft.  
That one was for her personal concert only, however.

It was during one of their days that a knock came to the door and Dandelion moved himself from the fireplace, setting his lute aside.  
"I'll get it!" He called, making his way down the stairs to open the door, freezing there with it open.

Geralt stood in the doorway, dumbfounded and wide eyed, staring down seeing a ghost. 

"...Jaskier?" He asked, voice barely over a whisper. "But she said that you'd..." he opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to process his grief and shock. 

But there he stood, like a dream. All soft edges and dewy eyes as he'd remembered. His hair was longer, and his skin was lighter, but it was him. There was no mistaking it.

Swallowing heavily, Dandelion looked the man over carefully, feeling that heartache coming back to him, that cold, numb feeling trickling back into his chest.

"Help you with something?" He asked, trying to hold himself together and not let the Witcher see him break or tremble.

"Jaskier!?" Geralt growled, grabbing him by the arm, holding painfully tight, shaking him lightly. Just to be sure he was there. 

"I thought you were dead!" He held on tighter to stop himself from shaking.

Tears pricked hot and angry at the corners of his eyes as he tried so hard not to break, but the pain of that big hand holding his arm, shaking him... tears slipped down his cheeks.

"I should've been. Would have been," he murmured, his voice so small, so quiet. "What does it matter to you anyway!?" He snapped back, clenching his jaw, his face twisting with anger as his tears kept coming.

Geralt pulled Jaskier to him, holding him tight against his chest, afraid he had lost him. He tucked his head into his hair, breathing in his scent.  
His usual, buttercup and wild flowers, lute oil, fire smoke, and... gooseberries. 

Hearing all the shouting, Yennefer got up to see what was going on. She stood, frozen in the hallway, seeing Geralt hugging her Dandelion. 

She felt her stomach drop. After all these months, after all that healing, years of aching and suffering, nearly dying, here he stood in Geralt's arms. 

She felt as if she was losing him right in front of her eyes.

He trembled in the Witcher's arms, sparing him only a moment before angrily pushing away, taking a step back.  
"You don't get to just–! You don't–!"

Dandelion balled his fists at his sides, staring down angrily at the ground, his eyes wide and more grey than blue, that cold feeling burrowing into him all over again. He didn't even notice Yennefer standing there not far behind him.

"You don't get to just come back into my life! And you certainly don't get to _touch_ me, _Witcher_!" He growled, his voice mostly venom, with a tremble of fear.

He still couldn't stand to say the man's name, or think it.

Yennefer felt a small victory at the sight of seeing him refuse the larger man. But she did hate seeing him like this.  
She moved gracefully to his side, resting her fingers at the back of his neck, as she stood to look up at Geralt, almost daring him to say anything. 

Geralt growled, his lips curling at his understanding now of what Yennefer did. "She told me you had died. What do you get out of this, witch!? Just to see that I do in fact feel?"

The soft and familiar fingers, feather-light against the back of his neck soothed some of his anger, quelled some of his fear.

"I don't blame her for telling you I died, you brutish jerk. I could have, as I said. And I very well nearly did. Not that you damn well care. It's been years, Witcher. Fucking. _Years_ ," he hissed, his eyes welling with more angry tears, his vision blurring with them.

"Gods awful years of hearing you tell me that you'd rather have life take me off of your hands than for me to continue to travel at your side. Just that, those words. Constant loop in my head while I traveled _ALONE_!" He sucked in a breath, stubbornly wiping at his eyes.  
"I used to think you felt things, actual things. But no one with an actual beating heart would do that to a person that only ever wanted their friendship, their attention, their fucking love."

Yennefer was startled but steel faced at Dandelion's words, standing in silent support for him.

Geralt reached for him again, wanting to soothe his anger. He put his hand down, deciding against it. "I... I had thought you were avoiding me. I'd looked for you, went to towns I knew you liked to play." He admitted, wanting to apologize but falling flat.

"Well, you were right. I _was_ avoiding you. Because that's what you fucking asked of me. _'If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands'_ – those were your words on that mountaintop," his voice was nearly a whimper now, trembling as he was in Yennefer's arms.

"I couldn't handle it. ...the one thing you ask of me and it's that. So I never stayed anywhere longer than one night before moving on. Drank myself silly or until I blacked out. Ate nothing but the herbs you told me would kill me," he scoffed, squeezing his eyes closed, turning his face towards Yen, breathing her in.

_Lilacs and gooseberries._

Her scent had become so familiar and so calming for him in these months together.

"Pathetic that what finally did me in were some bandits while I was camping in the forest. Stabbed me, stole my clothes and Filavandrel's lute. Left me for dead on the road," he laughed, a bitter sound.

Geralt stepped closer, feeling sick at the sight of him so close to Yennefer. He hated her guts, why was he here? "Jaskier I didn't... I didn't know that I'd..."

"I think you should leave. For now." Yennifer spoke up, seeing how distraught Dandelion looked. "Why don't you go into the kitchen and start some tea?" She suggested to him, running her fingers up the back of his head through long hair.

He closed his eyes, settling only fractionally at her gentle touches, her fingers through his hair.  
He gave a quiet nod, not trusting that his voice wouldn't crack and pull tears out of him. One last look to the Witcher and he turned, moving back into the house to start making tea.

Geralt watched him go, anxiety in his golden eyes before they turned on Yennefer, a growl there. "What have you done to him, Yennefer? Why is he _here_ when you told me–"

"Jaskier has died. Does that look anything like the man we knew!?" Yennefer bit, glaring at him. "I am the only reason that he lives. I have worked my ass off, spending sleepless nights just making sure he didn't die in his sleep." She spat at him, feeling the venom rising up in her stomach. 

"I'm just cleaning up the mess that _you_ made."

Dandelion moved to the kitchen, his body trembling with a heated mixture of anguish and anger, despair and distress.  
Why did he have to show up here, of all places? Why now of all times?  
He had wanted Jaskier gone, and so now he was. As gone as Yennefer would allow for.  
He put the kettle on for tea, but knew tea wouldn't cut the edge quite like-

He bit his lip, that tremble going to his hands as he thought of drink. He knew there was something around here somewhere...

When his search came up with some rather lovely looking Temerian vodka, he poured himself a glass, downing it quickly before pouring another.

Why had he come here? Why hug him? In all the years they'd traveled together he had NEVER done that, and Jaskier had wanted it. Now, when Dandelion didn't want him at all, that's when the big brutish beast finally–

"...thank you, Yennefer. For saving him. From me, I suppose. I hadn't– hadn't known those words would hurt him so, I didn't mean them, I was... angry."

"Don't you dare thank me." Yennifer bit, showing her teeth in a snarl. "You should have tried harder! Should have thought about how he felt, instead you only thought about yourself." She hissed, so angry at him for how selfish he could be. 

For her. For Jaskier. He'd only worried about himself. 

"He loved you. He thought the world of you, and you took that from him, giving him nothing in return."

Geralt furrowed his brow. "He... loved me?" He asked carefully, letting that sink in a moment.

...that's why he'd been so upset, then.  
Even in anger, how could he have said that to Jaskier? The bard had only ever been good to him, patient with him. Jaskier had literally bathed him and cared after his injuries.

...he really was an idiot.

"How can I fix this...?"

Yennefer shook her head, not wanting him to be able to fix it. She didn't want Dandelion to leave him. Especially not for him. 

He was hers now, she loved him and mended his broken pieces. Even when he was disgusting. There was no way she was losing him to this prick. 

But she knew she would. She knew how deeply Jaskier had loved Geralt. How he followed him around, caring for him with nothing in return. 

"Oh no. I'm not helping you here." She shook her head, crossing her arms. "You need to fix this yourself. Think about someone else for a change." She spat, hoping he really wasn't capable of that. 

"Write ahead before you come back. Maybe Dandelion will have time to prepare to see you." She frowned, turning away from him, letting one of the servants take care of him as she made her way to the kitchen to check on her little flower.

"Dandelion?" Geralt furrowed his brow, looking after Yennefer as she disappeared into the house. Having seen Jaskier, he'd nearly forgotten why he'd come – he reluctantly gave the servant the satchel of herbs and other miscellaneous magical items to give to Yennefer.

He had to figure out how to fix things with Jaskier...

Dandelion was leaning back in the chair he'd pulled out for himself, kettle near to whistling as he took a long drink from the bottle of vodka, his body feeling warm and fuzzy, though that cold, empty feeling in his chest remained, no matter how he drank.

He hated it.  
Hated that that... that asshole had shown up here, unannounced, no fucking warning, like he was at all wanted here! When he'd... when he'd said those things...

Yennefer came into the kitchen, seeing Dandelion drinking straight from the bottle. She was absolutely pissed, almost couldn't even be bothered when he had the sense to look guilty. 

She took it from him, having a swig herself before setting it on the table. 

"Go on. Finish it then." She gestured to the bottle, throat burning. She wanted to scream, wanted to break something, to go out there and break that Witcher's nose. "Finish it and see if it makes you feel any better. Because it won't. And you'll want ME to hold your hair!" She huffed turning the water off and pouring their tea. 

It wasn't fair for her to yell at him and she knew that. He had been doing so fucking well. This was only going to make him feel worse.

He swallowed heavily, having the sense for his eyes to water as she yelled at him. He eyed the bottle, near empty at this point so what would it hurt to–

He reached for it, but hesitated, squeezing his eyes closed. He dropped his hand, leaning back in his chair.  
"Fuck..." he breathed, hanging his head, running his fingers through his hair.  
He really wanted to just finish it. It was so–

He lurched forward and quickly snatched the bottle, downing the rest before placing the now empty bottle back on the table.

"Why did he have to show up?! I... I don't understand, don't under...understand. Nienawidzę go. Nenorocit putred. Stom ... beest."

"I hate when you do that." She huffed, sitting down across from him, setting a cup of tea in front of him with some bread on the side.

"I'm sorry. I had hoped you wouldn't see him... I needed him to bring something when you were sick." She looked down, worried she'd paint the big idiot as the hero. "He's the one that brought the parts needed to save you."

"Wouldn't have needed damn parts to save me if he... if he hadn't've gone and... been a big idiot," he huffed, taking a sip of his tea, groaning softly as the warmth of it made obvious the coldness that the vodka had given him.

"Don't wanna see him again, Yen. I don't... Neuk hem. Kurwa ... draniu," he leaned back in his chair, running fingers through his hair.  
"M...m'sorry I messed up, Yen... I'm real... really sorry. Shouldn't have... drank all that. ...was bad," he murmured. "Not the vodka. Vodka was good. Good stuff. You'd never... never have anything that wasn't the good stuff."

Yennefer wanted to be angry with him. She really did. But how could she?

As it was she was already afraid to lose him. 

"I'm not going to say it's fine or that I'm not upset, but I understand." She sighed watching him, he looked lost, half gone already. 

He'd finished a bottle after being sober so long. He'd be really sick. And she'd be there to care for him.

"I know... I know. ...you're allowed be upset. This is gonna... it's gonna be bad. Gonna be bad and it's his fault – my fault, but his fault. Ffffff....fuck," he whimpered softly, squeezing his eyes closed, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Y-Yen... can you forgive me...?" He breathed, pulling his legs up onto the chair, pulling them to his chest.

Yennifer sighed, putting her feet up on his chair, letting them rest against his ankles. "Don't be ridiculous. There's nothing to forgive." She hummed, looking him over gently. 

"Drink your tea and eat. It'll make you feel a little better. Then we can go lay in bed."

He sighed, nodding, releasing his legs so he could lean forward and drink his tea. It made him feel a little more aware, a little warmer, but real warmth.

"Okay... okay, I wanna go to bed now. Please..."

She nodded, standing and helping him up. Making sure he didn't sway too much up the stairs. 

She felt panic setting in again, what if Geralt won Dandelion over? What if he forgives him and takes him away again? What if he forgets about her? Could he possibly love him that much? 

She got him up the stairs, on the bed. She sighed heavily, carefully undressing him. It would be easier to clean the sick off his skin than off his clothes.

When she had fully relieved him of his clothes, Dandelion lay back on the bed, closing his eyes as he stretched out.

He was going to severely regret drinking a whole fucking bottle of vodka in one setting. Gods, his head was already feeling so...

"Yen... you gonna join me?"

How could she ever blame him for falling victim to his vices when she felt her own calling to her now? 

He was just laying there, hers for the taking. She worried that if she didn't now, he'd leave. She needed to keep him, had to, no questions.

She nodded, slowly moving to the bed, pulling her dress up and sitting on top of him. It felt wrong, but he was a man, what would it matter? He'd be able to. 

She let her hands rub along his ribs, up and then down his chest, watching his eyes. She could tell the room was spinning for him, poor thing.

Dandelion's cheeks felt flush as he looked up to Yen, sitting on him as she was.  
"Yen...?" He breathed in his confusion, blinking slowly a few times as the world seemed to move too much around him, as he saw two of Yennefer, and that was certainly too many Yennefer's.

Oh, gods...  
Tomorrow was going to be the worst.  
The absolute worst...

"Your hands are so warm..." he hummed, shivering again.

Yennifer hummed, rolling her hips. She leaned over him, pushing soft kissed to his jaw, his throat. Working her tongue and lips over his soft skin. 

She could feel his heart pounding under her tongue. She felt so wrong, but she needed this.

He trembled beneath her, soft little whimpering sounds leaving him as she kissed him, licked and nipped at him, and gods her hips–

He closed his eyes, reaching up to run his fingers through her hair, the other hand reaching to her side.

"Ohh... Y-Yen..." he breathed, licking at his lips.

Her body shook, feeling the excitement of attention from him. She bit her lip, pulling her dress off over her head, wanting to see how he looked at her. Needed to know he wanted her still. 

How could Geralt come and fuck all this up!? She knew Jaskier had to consider him. She knew his heart had to ache to be held by Geralt again. 

She growled, a broken whimper of a noise, rolling her hips against him again, moving his cock flat against his belly so she could rub herself along it.

When her dress came off, the firelight kissed her skin and outlined her every curve and she was beautiful. His lips parted, his dazed gaze looking over her carefully, slowly.

"Merciful Melitele..." he breathed, moving his hands along her stomach, her ribs, stopping before he touched her breasts, looking to her as if silently requesting her permission, though she clearly didn't require his to touch him.

She was warm and wet and he felt his already hazy brain going even fuzzier.

Yennifer grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands up to cup her breasts. Wanting to feel him touch, uncomfortable that she had to do it for him.

Why didn't he want to touch her? 

She slid along him, slowly, trying to bring him to attention. He twitched against her, but nothing more than that. What was she doing wrong? 

Didn't he want her? Why didn't he want her? What didn't he want about her? 

Her eyes watered, doubling her efforts. It wasn't even enjoyable for her, not when she could barely focus on her body when she was too worried what could be wrong with her. 

Why did Geralt have to ruin this?

Seeing the tears in her eyes, Dandelion panicked, moving a hand from her breast to her cheek, sitting himself up slightly - and regretting it as the world spun around him.

His stomach felt uneasy, and despite the pleasure that was mutely flooding his body, the main feeling currently running through him was panic.  
Panic that she was crying, panic that he felt sick, panic that his heart was beating far too loud and far too fast.

He wanted so badly to have this, to be with her this way after so long of just holding and gentle soft touches. He wanted her to take more from him, and he wanted to touch her and savor every inch of her skin, worship it as she deserved...

...but not when he felt like he was about to lose his lunch.

"Yen. Yen we... we gotta stop I'm," he clenched his mouth shut, shaking his head and regretting that too. "Too much. Yen, please I have to—"

Yennefer felt a little sick herself, climbing off him. She pulled the bed sheets over herself, wrapping herself in them tightly. 

She felt a little guilty at how pale he'd looked, moving to the side, knowing he'd at least go to the adjacent bathroom to be sick. The tile would be much easier to clean if he could make it. 

She watched him go, listening to him wretch, letting herself cry in her self pity. She understood he was drunk, too much all at once leaving him feeling nauseous, but that didn't stop her from feeling unwanted. Undesirable. 

The men in her past didn't care for her. They'd wanted some aspect of her, but not all of her. Perhaps Dandelion was the same. 

Could she still handle it if he wanted to take someone else? 

She got up, pulling her dress back on, going to check on him. To hold his hair and pick up the pieces.

Unbeknownst of the inner turmoil his lady was suffering through, Dandelion relieved himself of his lunch and the other contents of his stomach. Luckily he had made it to the bathroom before he doubled over on himself.

When he felt her hands on him, holding his hair back, he could only feel gratitude, with a flavoring of disappointment that they hadn't been able to... do as she wanted. That he hadn't been able to satisfy.

When the retching stopped and he was left a trembling mess, he let Yennefer help him to the bath, content to allow her help rinse him off before they returned to bed.

He chewed on a thing of mint as they climbed back into bed, as he curled close to his witch, desperately holding to her.

With whispers of _'I love you'_ Dandelion drifted to sleep against Yennefer, sleeping into the late morning hours.

Yennefer waited until he fell asleep, his words sounding hollow to her ears, tears in her eyes as she got up and went to the mirror. She slid her dress off her shoulders, turning and looking herself over. 

_'Oh, little piggy, how could you think a man like him would ever want you? He's everything you'll never be.'_ A voice far too much like her own had told her, looking in the mirror assessing herself. The dying light from the fire and the odd morning light distorting her image in the mirror.

She let herself cry silently, sat on the floor at the edge of the bed, now wrapped tightly in a thick robe, curled in on herself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well jeeze this is a long one  
> I had to force myself to find a place to stop and split things up!
> 
> Lots of emotions in this one my friends so be kind to yourself ♡

Miraculously, Dandelion slept through the night without trouble or needing to get up to rid himself of his stomach contents, which were surely now just the alcohol sitting in there.

He woke the next morning to find Yennefer on the floor, slumped over with a robe wrapped tightly around herself. Rubbing at his eyes, he scooted down and, making sure he wasn't bound to retch on her, leaned down to run his fingers through her hair.  
She looked as though she had been crying and the sight of that made his heart ache, his own eyes welling with tears.

"Yen...?" He whispered softly, brushing hair behind her ear.

Yennefer blinked slowly, coming back to herself at the sound of her name. She sighed, leaning into the touch a moment before pulling away, feeling disgusted with herself. 

She swallowed around that heavy lump in her throat, forcing a small smile on her face and looking up at him. "Goodmorning. Feeling any better?" She asked, her voice raw from holding back her cries the night before. 

She felt a twist in her heart at the sight of him. Even like this he was still so beautiful.

Her lips were tight when her smile wasn't genuine, and her violet eyes did not sparkle. Instead, they were rather red and puffy and he knew she must have been crying for a long while, perhaps even cried herself to sleep, and he felt his heart break for her.

_What did I do?_

"What did I do, Yennefer...?" He asked quietly, pushing past her question in favor of finding out how badly he messed up to make her look that way. "You've been crying – did I do something to hurt you while I was drunk?" He asked, swallowing heavily.

If he hadn't already been trying to push past this and be sober, he certainly had the motivation now.

Yennefer felt cut through when he'd asked the question. How could he be so sweet, even still? When she looked the way she must have. 

She pulled her lip between her teeth, worrying it as she shook her head. "You didn't do anything." She answered him honestly. That was exactly what hurt her so much. He didn't do anything. 

"I'm sure your head hurts. Stay put, I'll be back." She brushed his hands away, his touch feeling like too much. Too warm, too gentle, burning her. 

She got up, leaving the room to go down and make him some tea. She'd clean herself up while she was down there, heating the water before wetting her face.

It felt like a lie, because if he hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't done anything to hurt her, then why had she been crying? Why hadn't she laid in bed with him, like they always did?

He sat up on the edge of the bed, his brows furrowed as he held his ankles, his legs bent inwards at the knee.

After a moment, and he still felt alright, despite the pounding in his head behind his eyes, he pushed himself up and went after her, leaning against the doorway of the kitchen.

"I hurt you, but I don't know how. I just know that I did and... Yen, I'm so sorry... it's never my intention to hurt you and I hate that I can't even remember how I did..." he breathed, chewing the inside of his cheek, worrying it.

Startled by the sudden voice, she jumped at the sound, having been distracted by her thoughts again. 

"I thought I told you to stay upstairs!" She looked him over, a bit annoyed. "You didn't do anything." She told him again, huffing as she went back to grinding the herbs for their tea.

"You did, and I stayed for a little while but I felt fine enough to move," he huffed, feeling a bit like he was being scolded as if he were a small child.

"Yen... stop a moment and talk to me," he breathed, moving into the kitchen to stand closer to her, reaching to touch her arm with gentle fingertips. "I didn't do anything? ...was there something I was meant to do?" He asked quietly, starting to piece together how she kept saying the same thing, realizing maybe there was a reason for the choice of words.

Yennefer hated how he seemed to see right through her like that. How the hell did he know her so well? It showed in her eyes, quickly turning away from him. 

"No." She said simply, because if he couldn't remember she didn't want to bring it up. Why chance a second rejection? She wasn't handling the first all that well.

Clenching his jaw, he pushed his way between her and the stove, making her look at him.  
"Yennefer, _please_ talk to me. Don't shut me out, my love," he breathed, a sort of pleading to his voice.

He couldn't stand that she was in pain and was keeping it bottled in, like she somehow had decided within the hours of the night that she couldn't trust him.  
Was this because of the Witcher's visit? Because Dandelion had drank a whole fucking bottle of vodka after seeing him?

"I want to make it right, make it better, but I can't do that if you don't talk to me and tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours."

Sweet words turned bitter in her mouth, making her feel nauseous at how angry they made her feel. 

"Can't you just let it be!?" she snapped, flinching away from him. She went back to making their tea, moving around him, seeing things down a little too hard. 

She didn't need his pity. If he couldn't remember, it would be easier to forget.

He stumbled back as if her words had actually, physically struck him, the hard set of cups making him jump slightly as well, averting his gaze.

He didn't know how to fix this, or if he even could. He tried to think back to anything he may have said or done, or not said or done the night past and...

"Yen...is this..." he chewed his lip, contemplating. "Oh my darling... is this about the ah... the sex that wasn't?"

Shame was the first thing that hit, almost knocking the wind out of her. Followed by burning tears and anger. "Did I not ask you to leave it be!?" She yelled, voice cracking to the end making it sound more of a cry. 

She pulled away from him again, knowing she couldn't bear to look at him. She tried moving around him, trying to get away from him.

"Yennefer _please_!" Dandelion whimpered, feeling his own eyes well with tears.  
"I'm at a loss, my love and I... I don't really go in for leaving things be. I tend to get myself into trouble because of it but I can't just–" he sighed, running a hand through his own hair.  
"Sex, for me, is very much about explicit consent. I'm not... going to just touch you without knowing if it's alright. And, as for other... issues that may have arisen – ah, bad, awkward choice of words... –the other issues that presented themselves, I... just drank a whole bottle of vodka after seeing that _brute_ for the first time in 5 years and some change."

He was sure he was digging himself into a hole he wouldn't be able to dig himself free of, but on he carried anyway.

"So please, if your anger or... or upsettedness is because of all of that, please know I usually perform far better under better, more romantic circumstances."

Yennefer deflated quite a bit, listening to him defend himself. She knew it was wrong to blame him, was probably lucky he didn't puke on her. 

But she couldn't help but feeling she was undesirable. Unwanted. Even now, somedays she would look in the mirror and only think of how she'd only been worth 4 marks to the only family she had. That went both ways. 

"I just want to be alone for a while." She breathed, a wet sniff, hiding her tears from him again. She moved quickly going outside to her workshop. At least she wouldn't risk seeing herself there.

Shoulders slumping, Dandelion moved to sit down in one of the chairs, taking to one of the cups of tea – dandelion, ironically enough. He smiled around the rim of the cup, a sad little thing.

She was so good to him, so attentive to his needs and his troubles... he was perplexed why she wouldn't allow him to offer her the same.  
Didn't she know that's how love worked? Relationships?

...wait.  
That was what this was, wasn't it?  
It... they were more or less in a relationship, weren't they?

...perhaps less.  
He wrote songs for her like a foolish boy with a crush on a woman far out of his league and, sure, she gave him the time of day, but maybe... maybe she didn't want him that way? Maybe-

"Shut up, Dandelion," he muttered to himself, leaving the kitchen in favor of going to play a little on his gifted lute.

It was dark outside before Yennefer was pulled from her thoughts. She almost didn't want to go back into the house.

She didn't want to see if Dandelion had changed his mind about her. She wondered if he'd leave if she didn't come out eventually. 

She'd really fucked it up. 

It wasn't like she wanted him like that. Well, she did, of course she did. She felt safe around him, thought he was incredibly appealing and pleasantly clean. He said sweet words to her, wrote her songs and washed her hair. He made her feel desired in a way that wasn't only physical. His eyes never devoured her, always worshipped her and she was afraid she'd thrown that away for one cheap act of selfish lust.

She wanted him in so many ways. Might actually love him. Wished she knew a way to tell him that. 

That she enjoyed having her meals with him, sharing baths, hearing him play while she worked. She loved the afternoon distractions and the way he made her laugh like no one else could. She loved seeing him first thing in the say and last at night. 

And now, she'd lost him. She was sure of it. This was all either of them would think of each other. 

She curled back up, wanting to cry again but she didn't have the energy left.

Hearing movement from Yen's workshop to their bedroom, Dandelion moved from the kitchen, bringing warm tea and a hot plate of food with him.

Making it to the doorway, he rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.

"Can I come in? I bring apology tea and dinner," he hummed, leaning his head against the doorframe as he watched her carefully, seeing fresh tears.

She felt so guilty. Dandelion had nothing to apologize for, but here he was anyway. Even after telling at him he was still so good to her. 

She hummed her agreement to let him in, not trusting her voice. The room was still dark, but she could see his soft outline in the doorway. 

She didn't need to see him to know that sad look in his eyes.

With a nod, he pushed away from the door and moved to her, setting her food on the table beside the bed they usually shared.

"Dandelion tea, with a bit of honey," he hummed, handing her the cup. "Maybe you'll let me wash your hair in a little while? Only if you're feeling up to it, though."

"No..." she shook her head, not really moving from where she was laying. She took the cup, holding it close to her chest to feel its warmth. 

Yennefer really did not want to be naked around him right now. Maybe not for a little while.

"Did you eat?" She asked, trying to avoid the questions she knew he was going to ask.

He sighed, nodding as he leaned against the bed, sitting beside it on the floor.  
"Yeah, I ate. Same thing I made for you," he replied quietly.

He felt... lost.  
Things between them had been easy before. She talked, he listened. He talked, she listened. They both laughed and joked and he would sing to her and they would bathe and sleep and it was wonderful.

...but now something had changed. Some silent and awful change that he didn't know how to come back from.

This is how it had always been like with the Witcher, and that turned out oh so well...

"...are we okay?"

Yennefer held her breath. Out of all there questions she had expected, that was not one of them but it hit harder than anything she could have imagined. 

She breathed in, shaky, tears coming again. She wasn't sure how to answer. 

"Are we?"

He swallowed, contemplating only for a moment.  
"I want us to be okay," he breathed, fiddling with his hands in his lap, a nervous habit he was picking up. "I want us to be more than okay, but I know that'll take more time, and it'll take talking about things and you're not... you're not ready for that, and that's okay! Because... because I had all the time while you were fixing me up, making me better, bringing me back to someone that I can be proud of being instead of dead in a fucking ditch. I've had... so much time. Plus, I've always been rather an open book," he huffed a laugh, smiling a half smile. "Granted, the book fell apart ages ago and the pages were put back together in a nonsensical order and the table of content is somewhere lost in the middle maybe or... I've lost the metaphor here but, you understand what it is I mean?"

Yennefer felt a smile in her face, his idiotic ramblings bringing a warmth to her chest. 

"I have no fucking clue as to what you're talking about." She breathed a quiet giggle, looking at him affectionately. 

How could he be so good? It wasn't fair. 

There little nagging voice in her head told her he never would have thought about her before but she ignored that. What would it matter? He wasn't even born yet. 

What mattered is that he lived her now. Wasn't that what she always wanted. 

"I think we'll be ok." She agreed.

He relaxed beside her, a happiness settling back into his chest as he nodded. "Good, good," he hummed, leaning his head back against to close his eyes.

"And, when you're ready to talk about whatever had been bothering you, or, whenever you want to talk about anything really... I need you to know that I'll listen. That I won't judge, or poke or prod or tease. I'll listen, and I'll be there for you in whichever way you need me to be for the particular subject matter. Okay?"

"You and I both know I don't offer information willingly and you are completely incapable of just listening." She teased, reaching and running her fingers through his hair. 

"I'm sorry.... for... everything I guess." She sighed heavily, pulling her hand back to her own chest. "That wasn't fair of me. You're far too good to me for me not to value that."

"Being good to you comes easy, but that doesn't mean you have to just take that and not... have moments like this. I may not understand where this came from, but I understand it happens, and that's fine," he shrugged slightly, looking up at her in the darkness, barely able to see her silhouette in the dying light.

"All the same, I accept your apology and your jab at my very being. I'll get it out of you eventually, that I swear."

Yennefer blinked, smiling at him sadly, finally sitting up and having a sip of her tea. 

"You just have to ask the right questions... I would tell you anything." She sighed heavily, knowing it was true. She was beginning to learn that he might be her biggest weakness.

"What about last night, specifically, upset you?" He asked carefully, wondering if that was, at all, the right question.

She said to leave it alone, but then said she would tell him anything if he asked the right thing so... so how could he not?

"What's got that sad look in your pretty eyes?"

It was too broad a question, one she wasn't sure how to answer. She'd been upset by a lot. One thing always lead to another, creating webs of worry and anger in her mind. 

"There was plenty of things that upset me last night." She answered with a sigh, not trying to be difficult.

"What... what started it?" He asked quietly, trying again.

"Geralt." She answered simply, looking down into her cup. "The way he held you I just thought..."

He hated hearing his name, it made his heart do a weird and painful thing that he really wasn't fond of.

"Thought what, Yen?"

 _The way he held me..._  
He remembered those strong arms around him in a way they'd never been around him before, squeezing him gently, giving off so much warmth...  
For a moment it had felt nice, finally getting he had always longed for, but then he remembered everything that had happened and had gotten _so angry._  
He'd had no right just... just holding him like that, touching him without his damn permission when for _years_ he had been damn near begging for that sort of attention, that sort of physical contact.

Yennefer caught the fond look in his eye, even now. She could feel her heart breaking, as if someone was picking the petals off a flower. 

"Thought I was losing you to him..." she answered honestly, still feeling that way now.

He blinked, furrowing his brow. "Yennefer, you won't ever lose me to him, to anyone," he said sternly, meaning it genuinely. "I'm tired of pining after someone that doesn't even enjoy my company," he added, saying the words out loud made his heart hurt a little.  
He'd wanted to love the Witcher for so long and...

But Yennefer had been there for him like the Witcher never would have been, and he had grown so fond of her, had grown to absolutely love and adore her.

That fond look in his eyes was now brighter, and was meant only for her as he reached to take her hand in both of his.

"I swear to you, Yennefer of Vengerberg, you will not lose me to anyone. My heart is yours, and my body and soul are as well, if you'll have them, too," he hummed.

"But, what was the next thing that upset you?"

"That's a stupid question." Yennifer rolled her eyes, feeling the warmth creeping back into her. "You got drunk. On my good vodka too. That wasn't cheap you know." She huffed with no real heat to the words. 

She really didn't care about it, she'd been more worried about Dandelion.

"Heh, yeah... you'd never have cheap stuff lying around. You're a refined woman with excellent taste," he hummed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"After the vodka then, what was the next thing that made you feel upset? What was the thing that made you cry all night...?"

"You might be an alcoholic, but I fuck." Yennefer spat, feeling angry at herself for wording it like that.

"Before you, he was the only man I'd thought cared about me. And it was all because of a stupid Djinn wish." She clenched her jaw, swallowing heavily. 

"Look at me Dandelion, do you think men care to know who I am? They only care to know my bedroom." She hissed, not directed at him. "But I haven't always been like this, haven't been desirable. So when you didn't..." she stopped dead in her tracks, not wanting to go further.

He wanted to flinch at the harshness in her words, wanted to pull away from her and curl in on himself, but the way she seemed to pull into herself, he knew he couldn't. He had to be the one to pull her out of this, it was his turn to take care of her, help her.

"When I... oh– fuck, Yen..." he pressed his free hand to his face. "When I paused. When I didn't just– You thought that I–?" He looked up at her between his fingertips. "I paused to make sure it was okay for you, that you didn't mind if I– Yen, I may have fallen in love with you as a person, but I am _extremely_ attracted to you in other ways as well."

"I don't want to think of you like that..." Yennefer sighed heavily. "Not like.. I don't mean..." she stopped, thinking about it again. 

"Dandelion, I'm worried that people only love me to use me or for the way I look." She explained, watching him carefully, shying away from his touch. 

"After Geralt... after he... he made me feel special, and it wasn't even real. Every man who has made me feel unique has used me."

"Fuck him, and fuck everyone else anyway," he huffed, swallowing heavily, hating that she could even, for a moment, think that she wasn't genuinely special to him.

"As I said, I fell in love with you for just being you, before I even considered you for... other things," he murmured, chewing his lip anxiously. "I want to prove to you that I won't be like that, like the rest."

Yennefer looked him over, wondering how she could still hold that doubt. How she still worried he'd choose Geralt given the option. 

"I want you to be better than them, because I think you might be." She whispered, moving to the side so he could come up on the bed. "But I'm afraid I will always have my doubts."

Nodding, Dandelion climbed up on the bed beside Yennefer, feeling a weight lift from his chest. Things were... they were really going to be okay, and he could feel himself smile.

"Then, I'll just have to valiantly ride into battle against those doubts, because you're worth that, Yennefer. You need to know that I know you're worth it."

"For how long?" Yennefer asked, scooting closer and putting his feet in his lap. She wanted to feel him against her skin, but not yet. 

She was afraid she'd pull away again.

"As long as it takes. Until my last breath or beyond, if that's what it takes, my lovely," he hummed, leaning across to grab some lavender oil.

"May I rub your feet?" He asked, looking to her for permission.

Yennefer hesitated a moment before nodding. She knew he'd stop if she wanted him to. 

She was almost sure that went for anything. 

"I didn't fuck everything up, did I?" She asked looking at him hopefully. She ran her thumb over the scars on her wrist, still feeling like she wasn't worth what he was willing to give.

"No, my darling, you didn't fuck anything up," he hummed softly, taking her feet in his hands, rubbing the oils into her skin as he rubbed and massaged the parts of her feet that seemed the most tense.

"Have I fucked things up?" He asked carefully, his attention focused on his hands working her feet.

"Not today." She smiled at him, trying to tease him and feeling a little better for it. 

She laid back, hands resting over her stomach, still running her thumb along her wrist.   
Four marks. Dandelion made her feel as if her value gained interest by the minute.   
He couldn't fuck anything up that badly for long. Not when she loved him like she did.

"Well, I suppose that's good enough," he grinned, still massaging her feet for a little while before releasing them, running a hand along her ankle, featherlight.

"When did you so those?" He asked curiously. "It isn't the first I've noticed them but... I was never close enough to you to deem it right to ask."

Yennefer pulled her wrists tighter to herself, covering them with her hands. She considered telling him to fuck off. 

"Right after I was taken to Aretuza." She answered him, voice quiet, almost meek.

He tilted his head curiously, looking at the way she pulled in on herself, knowing he shouldn't push his luck with any further questions about it. At least not right now.

...though he did wonder.  
He had heard plenty of things about Aretuza. None were... overly pleasant, he had to admit. Whatever drove Yennefer to make those marks on herself, to cut so deep they left scars like that, it had to be terrible.

"I'm sorry, Yen. You wear your battle scars proudly, though. You kept them, when you could have been rid of them, right?"

Yennifer worried her lip between her teeth, remembering one of her lowest points in life. Back then she had almost wished to be left sleeping with the pigs. 

"Yes... they..." she thought about it, looking them over, sometimes wondering why she'd kept them. "Remind me of what I was. What people thought of me. What I'm not anymore."

Nodding, Dandelion leaned against her carefully, letting his eyes slip closed as he listened to her breathe.

"They're a part of you – our scars tell the stories of the battles we've fought. Sometimes with monsters or awful people, but sometimes our scars are from fights with our inner demons. Those battles are the hardest to fight, and so those scars are the most valuable," he opened his eyes, looking to the ceiling, the soft moonlight leaking through the window.  
"I haven't got inner demon scars, not really. My inner demons decided to fight dirty with alcohol and poisonous herbs and bandits."

"They still scarred you Dandelion. Maybe not that you can feel now, but they did." Yennefer sighed, sitting up to cup his face. She moved closer, resting their foreheads together. 

"And you'll look at them later, and they'll make you feel worse because you can't see them. They'll hurt but trick you into thinking they're not really there if you can't see them." She whispered, looking him over, speaking from experience. "But they are there, and they're deeper than you think. But you'll forget about them over time, look back to see how far you've come."

"And I'll know how far I've come will only be because you were there to make those scars less painful, less noticeable," he hummed, smiling softly as he nuzzled his nose against hers.

"It is a bit of a shame, you know... that I can't drink anymore," he sighed, brushing hair behind his witch's ear. "Wrote some very good ones while my tongue was a little loose."

Yennefer smirked, leaning into his touch. "Every woman loves a loose tongue." She purred, pushing his hair behind his ear. "I'm sure we could eventually think of something to loosen you up. Herbs are always fun." She suggested playfully.

Dandelion's cheeks flushed and he raised a brow, a light smirk tugging at his lips. "You love a loose tongue, hm? Suppose I'll have to give you a taste sometime," he said, trying to keep a straight face, but his cheeks burned too much at his own words and so he buried his face in his hands.

"Oh gods, I actually said that. That was awful!"

Yennefer laughed, and gods it felt so good to do. "I'm not sure any woman would let you near her with your tongue if that's how you use it. Absolutely terrible." She mocked him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He sighed wistfully, shaking his head. "Poor, shameful muscle will go unused and unloved, it seems," he chuckled, shaking his head. "And my awful flirting attempts will only get worse, I can assure you of that."

"Gods I'm doomed!" She groaned, playfully falling back on the bed. She, in some way, meant it. 

She was so doomed to fall for Dandelion and his horrible flirting and terrible innuendo. But he didn't treat her like some prudish maiden and he certainly didn't hold his tongue. Not that she'd want him to.

"Yes, yes you are! Strap in and strap on my dearheart because things will only get worse in the flirting department from here on, knowing you find my playful words so... interesting," he snickered, falling backwards with her, laying his head against her chest.

"I never should have said anything!" Yennefer snorted, moving her fingers through his hair. 

She loved this, Dandelion was far more fun than she'd thought before. "We wasted so much time hating each other. We should have done this years ago."

"We should have, really..." he smiled sadly, thinking about all those wasted years chasing after a man that didn't care. He'd been only 18 when he first met the Witcher, first wrote Toss a Coin.

 _18._  
Barely a man, no longer a boy, and he'd tripped and fallen into love with a jerk.

He would have much rather tripped and fallen into love with his witch back then, saved them both some heartache.

"Shame time can't be persuaded to change, and that Fate and Destiny are twin bitches with a shit sense of humor."

"We found each other anyway. Maybe the Witcher was good for something." She suggested with a hum, letting her fingers move through his hair, along his jaw, to his lips.

Dandelion parted his lips slightly, blinking up to Yen as he pressed a kiss to her fingertips, nibbling them teasingly.

"Steering me into your arms was probably the best thing that idiot ever unintentionally did for me."

She hummed at the feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth. "Maybe I should thank him before telling him to fuck off next time."

"Nah, just a fuck off sounds like a good plan," he grumbled, nipping at her fingers still before moving to press a kiss to her palm.  
"He delivers important materials to you though, doesn't he?"

"Nothing that I need." Yennefer answered him, letting her free hand move through his hair, dragging her fingers against his scalp.

"Only the one delivery was important. I can tell him to go away and not come back if you'd like me to." She offered, knowing she'd be more than happy to cut ties with Geralt again.

Not let him come back, not let him pluck her little flower for himself.

"Yes," Dandelion breathed, whether to the intense feeling of her nails against his scalp, or the idea of never having to see Geralt at his door again without warning, it wasn't clear. But the answer was.

He shuddered slightly, but nodded, careful not to dislodge her hand.  
"Do you think he'll listen? If you ask, will he really go away and not come back?"

"He did the last time." She shrugged, sighing heavily, her hand stilling for a moment. 

She resumed at the sound of Dandelion's little whine at the loss of nails. 

"I'd like for him to learn to humility and apologize to you. But at the same time, I'm still afraid to let him anywhere near you." She looked down at him. "You've come too far for him to send you right back every time."

"...if he gave warning, before just showing up, then maybe it wouldn't be such a shock and he could do his stupid meaningless apology and THEN you can tell him to never come back?" Dandelion sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned into the blissful sting of her nails along his scalp.

"I did tell him to write ahead if he decided to show up again." She hummed. "I would rather never see his face here so I don't have to worry about you. But that's not up to me. I think you deserve closure."

It would be nice, to hear the Witcher apologize for the words that still occasionally haunted Dandelion's thoughts. Even if he didn't truly mean it, and even if it wouldn't change anything, it still would be nice to hear it.

"Nothing else. If he isn't coming to apologize, he isn't allowed to stop by."

"Fine by me." Yennefer agreed, hoping Dandelion would understand her home was as much his. It was theirs and, while she absolutely called the major shots, he was allowed to have input and make decisions in his own home.

He seemed to settle upon the agreement, nodding once before curling against Yennefer again.

"...thank you, Yen. For talking to me, and also for listening to me," he hummed,realizing it was probably a silly thing to thank her for but... well. He was a silly thing.

Yennifer let out a contented sigh, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you for being better."

"It's not as though I've control over that. When this all started I do recall begging you to let me die," he raised a brow. "You made me better, and eventually I caught on to that I could actually really be better, with your help."

"I don't mean like that." She whispered, pushing a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you for being better than all the men that came before you."

"Ah, well... what can I say – they broke the mould with me," he laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his witch.

"Thank you for... everything, Yen. I mean truly... saving my life twice, taking me into your home and putting up with my awful puns and even worse flirting? You must be in the running to be some sort of saint."

"Maybe I'm just twice as terrible as you are?" Yennefer challenged, giving him a playful look.

"Oh I very highly doubt that one," he hummed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to her jaw. "You couldn't possibly be _twice_ as terrible as I am. Perhaps an even playing field, but I assure you, you're the one in the running for sainthood, not I."

"You would be the patron saint of just the most awful, lewd, but terribly catchy tavern songs." She laughed, looking back to him again, that heavy feeling, the doubt leaving her heart.

"I assume you mean in particular my favorite Fishmonger's Daughter?" He smirked, a brow raised. "You _hate_ that one, don't you?" He rested his head against her chest, humming the tune for the song softly, still smirking.

"Everyone with half a brain who's heard that song hates it!" She accused, giving him a smack on the shoulder. Even though that was a crowd favorite only bested by that dreaded coin song.

"Good thing there aren't many out there with more than half a brain, then," Dandelion laughed happily, a bright note, stemming from the smack and the jab at people as a whole.

Yennefer wasn't, in technicality, a human. She was a witch, and they had... advantages.  
Actually, come to think of it, Dandelion had no clue how old Yennefer was. He'd never really thought on it before.

Yennefer groaned, her protests only seeming to encourage him. 

She settled a moment, smiling and just watching him as thoughts seemed to form behind his eyes. "What's that face for?"

Dandelion blinked, shaking his head. "I... it's nothing. I was just thinking about years, I suppose. Time," he murmured, wondering how long he would get to spend with Yennefer. Surely, no matter her current age, she would far outlive him.

Being human had its drawbacks like that.

"Do you ever think about time? Past, present and future."

"Sometimes." Yennefer admitted quietly. "I'm afraid I don't notice its passage most of the time." She sighed, looking back up to the ceiling. 

"I'm quarter elf, and a mage. I'll live far beyond my time." She explained, still not looking at him. She was afraid to see his face. Knowing he was human. There were a few things she could do about that, but it wasn't her decision. She couldn't do that to someone against their will.

"Far beyond mine," he breathed, a sad tone to his voice as he searched out her hand to hold, to squeeze. "I worry about it, sometimes. Time," he murmured. "But, for the time being, it hasn't seemed to have dug its claws into me too badly. There are some that assume I'm still in my late 20s to 30s," he laughed softly, shaking his head.

She frowned looking down at him realizing she had no idea how old he was. "How old are you?" She asked curiously. She tried to guess, but he did look just about in that range. No older looking than herself.

"43," he laughed, running a hand through his own hair. "43 and no silver or grey hairs. No joint pains, no anything that typically comes with getting up there in age," he hummed, looking to her. "You really didn't know? Probably meant that the Witcher didn't either. Been a long while since he celebrated a birthday, anyway."

She sat up, dumping him off her chest to look down at him, study him closely. "You're almost middle aged." She commented, noticing he didn't have any signs of aging. 

His hair was still thick and dark in color, there wasn't any wrinkles, not even crows feet, his body, of course she'd looked, was in fantastic condition. He looked exactly as he had when Geralt had brought him here. 

"Fuck."

"Yeah, I know, right!?" Dandelion laughed again, rubbing at the back of his neck as he sat up a bit, a little confused why she had to just rudely dump him off of her like that when he had been so comfortable.

"Nearly middle aged and you could never tell. You never would have guessed my real age, and trust me, if it isn't my family or the jerks I grew up with, I doubt anyone could correctly guess my age," he hummed, seeming at least a little proud of himself.

Yennifer looked him over, in shock, not having realized that much time had past since she'd met him. 

"And you can still have sex with no problem? Get it up just fine? Not joint pain? No memory loss?" She asked, looking him over again, being a little more invasive. She was working a theory over in her head.

Dandelion's cheeks flushed brightly, averting his gaze. "Well, except for when I down a whole bottle of alcohol in one sitting, and, well actually really... I haven't been with anyone in over 5 years and in those 5 years I was alone I didn't really go in for you thing myself so I don't know how well that all works out, but... no unusual joint pain, no unusual memory loss that can't be attributed to alcohol abuse."

Yennefer looked at him her mouth falling open in her shock, a bit of rage rising up in her stomach. "Oh my gods... fuck." She growled, sitting back on the bed, an anxious laugh filling the room.

"That beautiful bastard."

Blinking, and looking to his witch as if she had completely gone off the deep end, Dsndelion tilted his head.

"It seems you've had some epiphany of sorts, my dear. Care to share with the class, or do you intend to leave me in the dark?"

What was she laughing and swearing about, now?

"You look exactly like you did when you were cursed by the Djinn. How old were you then? 26? 28?" Yennefer asked him, almost enjoying the confusion on his face.

Gods he was so stupid.

"Smack dab in the middle, 27," he replied, brow still furrowed in his confusion, the feeling deepening when she looked absolutely thrilled about all of... whatever this was.

"I'm not sure where you're going with this, Yen..."

"When Geralt came in here, while I was trying to possess the Djinn, he told me his last wish was that he wouldn't lose me." Yennefer told him, watching his face carefully, a little disappointed when she didn't see him getting her point. 

"What if it wasn't just me? What if he wished not to lose the both of us?"

He blinked a few times, shaking his head. "I don't believe it for a second. From the moment I started traveling with him, he's constantly been trying to get rid of me or leave me behind. His first wish put me in mortal peril, as it was. He wanted 'peace and quiet' and so the Djinn translated that as, oh, you want this constant annoyance in your life to lose his voice and also probably die," Dandelion pushed himself up along the bed, scooting to press his back against the wall.

"I've just got good luck with aging is all."

He refused to believe that the Witcher thought of him in that moment, especially when directly after, he'd found the pair of them fucking in the ruins of the building.

...one of the worst fucking days of his life and he'd rather forget it, if he could, thank you very much.

"Yes, but you'd eaten so much poison you could have killed an elephant. You should be old and wrinkled and hideous." She teased him, scooting closer, knowing she'd hit a nerve. 

"If I'm right about this–because I'm not that bad at magic that you should still have this much vitality–" She hummed, taking his hands. "But if I am right, there's a chance you'll only die from outside force."

"Great, so that explain the fucking bandits, then," he muttered, a scathing anger bubbling in his chest that his not being able to take his own godsdamned life might have been the Witcher's fault.

"Couldn't it have been that healing sleep you had me in, to cure what the Djinn did? Couldn't that be... why I'm fine?"

_Please?  
Gods, please._

He wanted to cry, wanted to scream.  
How _dare_ the Witcher wish him to live beyond his years, and then proceed to say what he had, and not let the bard take control of his own Path by destroying himself.  
How fucking _dare_ he.

He could feel himself trembling in his rage.

Yennefer shook her head sadly. "I don't think so. I wouldn't have fucked up that bad." She sighed, wishing it had been her. 

"I'm sorry..."

It cut deep, and it was like all the wounds that Yennefer had worked closed had suddenly reopened and he wished he were bleeding because then at least it would feel real, and he could staunch the flow of it from him.

He curled in on himself, trembling, the anger mixing with the anguish that he thought he had finally – mostly – packed away. But here it all was, as fresh as on the mountaintop and every day since.

The sob that pulled from him, echoing because of how he cradled his head against his legs, startled him, but another came, and another as he cried, shaking uncontrollably.

How DARE the Witcher curse him like this and then say what he had done? Maybe people had been right about Witcher's being heartless, emotionally stunted monsters, because only someone such as all that would curse a person this way.

Yennefer hesitated before moving closer, wrapping her arms around him, cradling him while he cried, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm grateful I'll be able to spend more time with you." She whispered, rubbing circles into his back, trying to calm him, make it easier for him to breathe.

He desperately wanted to pull away from her touch, but he didn't, still just trembling, his sobs dying down only because his throat ached from his cries and his tears were running dry.

Sure, it was a nice bonus that he could spend a good long time alive with Yennefer.

...but it didn't discount where that fucking _'blessing'_ came from.  
He needed another bottle or two of vodka, at this point.

For a split moment, the angry little voice in his head snarled that he wished he'd died on that bed, cursed by the Djinn.

Yennefer could feel his back twitching at her touch, pulling away from him. "Do you want me to leave?" She asked, having been grateful for the privacy he'd given her earlier.

_Yes._  
"No," he breathed, his voice a hushed whisper, a tremble from his lips as his whole body seemed to want to shy away from her, from everything.

He felt that dark, numb feeling in his chest again, as he had when he was traveling alone, wanting nothing but to stop breathing, stop existing in this damn world.

"I'm just... I don't know."

Yennefer sighed, moving down on the bed to lay on her side. "Lay down with me." She whispered, holding her hand out, palm up on the mattress.

He tensed a moment before unfolding himself to lay beside her, reaching out carefully to rest his hand in her open hand.

"I _hate_ him, Yen..." he breathed, his voice cracking on his words. His words that he _wished_ were true.

"I know." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his fingers before setting their hands back. 

She'd let him feel his anger. Just as he'd let her have hers. 

"But I will never deny that I'm grateful that I might have you around longer."

"I would have preferred it on better terms," he grumbled, burying his face against the bedclothes.  
"Hell, I would have rather become a fucking monster than this. Vampire, werewolf, whatever. I would've preferred any of that over this being because of _him_ , because then... then it means whatever extra time I have with you is because _he_ willed it," he peeked at her, biting his lower lip.

"You could say the same about me. I'm under the same curse." Yennefer reminded him watching him with sad eyes.

"Look, Dandelion, I know you hate him right now, and I'm not going to tell you you shouldn't. He absolutely deserves it." She sighed, feeling her own emotions bubbling up. If he'd said the same words to her that he'd said to Jaskier, she probably would have pushed him off that mountain. 

"But you can't deny that you had some of the best years of your life so far at his side. You spent a majority of your life with him."

"That I regret now," he retorted bitterly, clenching his jaw. "Chased around a man that didn't want my company but I was too stupid to truly understand that until he finally broke down so far as to say such a cruel thing," he added, running his free hand over his face.

"For you, it's different, you would have lived long anyway. Me? I should've been dead by now. And yes, we already covered that, I am thankful to have not died so I could have this time with you, now, instead. But it doesn't change that he took that from me. Took my option away. Now I have to piss someone off enough that they'll fucking run me through if I want to die," he rolled his eyes.

He knew he was being a bit dramatic, that Yen was just trying to make this okay, make it better, but he couldn't help his anger. Couldn't help that everything seemed to be tainted by that fucking Witcher.

"There's a reason I chose to leave _'Jaskier'_ behind."

"Then take this as a blessing to start over as Dandelion. You have the opportunity of a whole new life." She suggested, reaching out to cup his face. 

"Follow me around this time. I might be cruel at times, but I know I have love for you. I'm not confused by that. And I will do my best not to abuse that privilege."

"The cruelty is nothing, the love? That's everything," he breathed, tears slipping down his cheeks, a feeling of release in his body.

He wanted so badly to hold onto all of his rage, all of his anger and frustration... but with Yen and her gentle hands on him, her words washing over him, he felt it all slip away and down his cheeks.

"Dandelion is my name – and her flower I will be," he sang softly, looking to her through the tears in his eyes.

Yennefer smiled softly, her own eyes watering now. She moved closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. She wiped the tears off his cheeks, just happy to touch. 

"And what a pretty flower you are."

He laughed wetly, shaking his head as he leaned into her. "Only you think so, my sweet," he hummed, reaching up to card his fingers through her hair. "...but I'm quite alright with only you thinking so," he added quietly.

"Let's get some sleep... these have been a rough couple of nights." She sighed heavily, holding on to his hand.

"Tomorrow we can go out if you want, or just stay in bed. I can let you go play your music all day, anything. It's up to you."

"I want to go out, I think. I certainly don't want to stay in. Might lose my mind if I stay inside another day after all this..." he murmured, shaking his head. "And I don't mean that to be an offense, I swear," he added quietly, closing his eyes as he snuggled against his beautiful witch.

She hummed, nodding wrapping her arms around his head. "Could be nice. Maybe you could play outside for me?"

"I am rather fond of walking and playing. Haven't done it in quite a while though... would be a nice change of pace, maybe," he hummed, his eyelids heavy, his body struggling to stay conscious as she held him so protectively.

"Could be nice." She agreed, the sound of him falling asleep encouraging her to do so. 

"Sorry if I gag, but maybe we could do a picnic. Bring lunch with us, be back before dark."

"Yennefer, are you asking me on a very romantic date?" Dandelion asked, a soft laugh as he still fought against sleep.

Why did she have to say such nice things while he was falling from consciousness? That wasn't very fair.

"No such thing. Shut up." She teased, closing her own eyes and curling closer.

He laughed again, barely a huff of breath as he drifted to sleep. He slept soundly in her arms, exhausted from all the overwhelming emotions over the past few days.


End file.
